The Master's Queen
by The Creatress
Summary: It is found that Hermione is related to Voldemort and she is sent to his court to spy. Severus looks after her, but what happens when his mistress grows to love him? Voldemort won’t be happy about this. He's already promised his niece to his ally, Fenrir.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer - I don't own HP or anything related.

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Author's Note:

Ahoy hoy! This is my new fanfic – The Master's Queen.

Charlotte's Trip will be ending soon, so the time seemed ripe to post a new SSHG…

**Full Summary:**

**When it is discovered that Hermione is related Voldemort, she is sent to the Dark Side to spy. Severus has to look after her, but what happens when she develops feelings for him? The Dark Lord won't be happy about his spy stealing the heart of his only living relative… Throw in an ambitious Ginny, a lecherous Greyback and an angry Draco and step back…**

**Pairings:**

**Severus/Hermione (main pairing), some Ginny/Hermione.**

Luv

Creatress

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The Master's Queen

Prologue

The showdown at the Department of Mysteries had been a disaster, to say in the least.

The Dark Lord had lost the prophesy and many of his most skillful followers. The only thing he was able to salvage, he'd thrown to four or five other Death Eaters to be punished for the failure of not only herself, but for those of her colleagues as well. His identity had been given away – the world knew that he was back. This blow was one that he doubted he could recover from. It was all-out war now.

And yet, this wasn't what was dominant on Tom's mind.

What he could not get out of his mind was the one person, who he'd noticed utterly by chance, who'd been in his line of vision for about two seconds before she was pulled away from a curse with a streak of red and his attention was diverted. The one person who was a younger version of a woman he'd seen blinded by a flash of emerald light before gracefully falling to the ground.

After he had killed her, he'd looked at her for half a second without emotion, but he'd memorized her features. Her pale skin, small frame and, her most distinguishing feature, her long mane of unruly brown curls. She was special – his third kill. His grandmother.

During his stakeout, he had noticed that she'd been the quietest of the bunch, only nodding and giving one word answers to her husband during dinner, and spending most of her time looking sorrowfully at her obviously unhealthy son. Her silence hadn't helped her much when he'd burst in through the door.

And now she was back. With a wand in hand.

Who in the seven layers of hell was that girl at the ministry?

Tom made his way through Malfoy Manor, trying to find the library, lost in a blindness of rage and confusion. Was she a Riddle? How was there a Riddle witch? His father's side had been composed of muggles, hadn't it? And he'd killed them all – _who was that girl?!_

It was as this thought settled that he almost ran into Narcissa Malfoy. The mistress of the manor was trembling, tears streaking down her cheeks and her eyes unclear due to more unshed tears. Whether her stress was caused by her husband's recent incarceration or her sister's tortured screams rising from the dungeons, Tom wasn't sure. And Tom didn't care. As she started and fell to her knees in a bow, the only thing Tom thought of was that Narcissa was probably the only woman on the dark side who knew everything about everyone. He fixed her with a menacing gaze. "Get up," he hissed.

Narcissa scrambled up, struggling to maintain her composure.

"Get me a penseive and come to the library. You have two minutes," he instructed before billowing past her. He heard her robes rustle as she rushed away to do as he bid and hoped for his own sake (not for hers, though it would be favourable to her, as well) that she knew about the mystery girl at the Department.

In the library, he'd wiped a table clean, sending all of its books flying to the other side of the room with wandless magic and settled down behind it. Narcissa scrambled through the door only seconds later, followed quickly by the penseive, which appeared on the table with a pop. The house elves had delivered it.

Tom motioned for Narcissa to stand at the other side of the table before wordlessly bringing his wand to his temple. He withdrew his memory of her, and stoically flicked it into the penseive. The memory glowed with a white light before dimming. Tom looked into in, relaxing a little as his memory of her became clearer.

The girl ran into the Atrium, her skin flushed and sweaty, her amber eyes wide and his grandmother's curls bouncing behind her. For half a second, she stood still and surveyed the scene before raising her wand toward someone or something – Tom didn't see who or what – but before she was able to do anything, a beam of blue light shot toward her from the other side. She hadn't noticed, but the two girls – a redhead and a blonde – who'd come in after her clearly did. The blonde seemed to let out a yell and the redhead lurched forward and grabbed his grandmother's look-alike out of harm's way. And that was it because his attention shifted to dear old Dumbledore.

Tom looked up at Narcissa and tapped the penseive with his wand. "Who is this girl?" he asked, simply.

Trembling, Narcissa fearfully stepped closer to the penseive and peered inside. She watched the scene with a slight frown, a flicker of disgust clear on her face. "The redhead? Ginevra Weasley."

Tom scowled. Not only because Narcissa had misunderstood his question, but also because the name Ginevra was also vaguely familiar. He shook his head, his attention quickly coming back to the brunette. "The other one!" he snapped.

Narcissa jumped and shrank back. Her frown deepened a little, though, and a flash of irritation joined the disgust in her expression. "I don't know who the blonde is. The brunette is Hermione Granger."

Tom looked evenly at the blonde before him. "Hermione Granger," he repeated.

Narcissa nodded, looking torn between showing her fear for the Dark Lord or her disgust for the girl in the penseive. "Yes, my Lord."

"Who the bloody hell is she?!" Tom snapped, suddenly very irritated.

Narcissa cringed, rather like Peter Pettigrew. "Mudblood. One of Potter's lackeys," she reported in a quiet voice.

One of Potter's lackeys… Tom scowled, blackly. Muggleborn, as well? Could some branch of the Riddle family have produced a witch? Didn't that mean there had to be some magic there to begin with? A thought hit him and he couldn't help but smirk slightly. If the family had indeed produced a witch because of latent magical abilities, that would make him more than a half-blood, wouldn't it? His expression grew serious again and he regarded the brunette in the penseive. "What else do you know about her?"

Narcissa rolled her eyes as she thought, a frown still playing at her lips. "Gryffindor. Apparently, the smartest witch to ever enter that school." She looked disgusted and fuming at this point. "Of course, that's only Dumbledore talking. How can a mudblood possibly - ?"

"What else, Narcissa?" Tom cut in, irritated.

Narcissa blinked, surprised before cowering. "I do know that she is Potter's brain." She paused. "Severus had said that if she hadn't been around, Potter would never have gotten past his potions riddle in his first year and would have just died in that chamber."

The Dark Lord looked away from Narcissa and turned to the penseive. There was a possibility that she was related to him, yet she'd spent the last few years helping his nemesis? If it hadn't been for her - Tom stopped, short. A slow, conniving smile curled at the corner of his mouth. "How powerless would he be without her?" he wondered out loud. "Without someone to _think_ for him?"

Narcissa, not knowing whether the Lord was being rhetorical or not, answered tentatively. "You will do away with her, sire?" She couldn't keep the excitement out of voice – Granger was part of the reason for her family's suffering today.

Tom's crimson eyes snapped back to Narcissa and he scowled. "No one will do anything until I say so," he hissed, his high-pitched voice dangerously calm. He stood up so suddenly that Narcissa stumbled back a few steps, even though he'd not done anything but rise. "I do not want to obliviate you because I may need more information from you." He paused, frowning. "Breathe a word of this to anyone, and I will send you down to the dungeons to join your sister. Is that understood?"

Narcissa was too scared to respond, but her cowering form and quiet whimpering was enough of an answer to the Dark Lord, who promptly apparated out.

xXxXx

"It was a stupid idea."

"It wasn't."

"It was," Hermione insisted. She was lying down in a hospital wing bed and had her back to Ginny, but she could imagine her friend's displeased frown. "We could have gotten ourselves killed." She paused, and gulped, but couldn't swallow down the lump in her throat. "We got Sirius killed," she added in a whisper, not trusting her voice to speak a decibel above that.

"No, we didn't." Ginny's tone was firm. "We did what we had to. Granted, things could have gone better, but it's not our fault. It was a good plan."

"What plan?!" Hermione turned to face her, her voice now raised to a loud hiss. "We had no plan."

Ginny only looked stoically at her. "What will you do? Sit there and blame yourself?" She looked away and fixed her dark chocolate brown eyes on the ceiling. "That should bring him back," she added, quietly.

Hermione was shocked at Ginny's inertia. She knew that Ginny had hardly known Sirius, but to be so uncaring was almost evil. She was about to reprimand her when a groan rose from Umbridge's bed on the other side of the room. The girls forgot their little argument and simultaneously turned to glare at their current headmistress as she groaned again and her eyes slowly opened.

As Umbridge blinked against the dim light of the hospital wing, she twisted a bit and murmured something that sounded like "centaurs…"

Hermione turned to look at Ginny, who felt her gaze and turned to her, raising her eyebrows. Hermione gave her friend a rather cruel smile before placing her index finger to her lips. Quietly, she made a fist with her hand as brought it down to the side table. Giving Ginny a wry smile, she started loudly tapping her knuckles against the wood, in the rhythm that horses make as they trot.

As expected, Umbridge let out a loud wail and both girls fell back against their beds, struggling not to laugh. The hospital wing was flooded with light and Madam Pomfrey ran in from her office, followed closely by Severus Snape. The nurse rushed to Umbridge and the Potions Master stayed a few meters away, frowning in distaste.

Hermione glanced at Ginny and saw that her friend's eyes were shut. She looked like she was asleep. That was probably a good idea – pretending to be asleep. As soon as she thought this, she felt someone watching her and her eyes shifted. Her heart almost stopped when she met the cruel, obsidian eyes of the Potions Master, but she forced herself to calm down. He was watching her with a thoughtful frown, an eyebrow slightly propped up. Hermione inwardly gulped and turned away to stare at her pillow. Did he know it was her who'd caused Umbridge's fit? He seemed to know everything.

Fortunately, Umbridge calmed down. Pomfrey and Snape left the wing, the Potions Master not so much as uttering a single word. Hermione allowed herself to calm down only when the room plunged into darkness again.

Hermione shifted a bit in bed, wondering if she should call to her friend. But Ginny's instincts were better than Hermione's, and, as usual, Ginny beat her to it. "Hermione?" came the redhead's whispered voice from the next bed.

"Yes?" Hermione whispered back.

"What _is_ it with you this year?" Ginny asked. Hermione thought she could hear the smile in her voice. "Leading a secret organization, scarring Marietta Edgecombe, inflicting that kind of mental torture on Umbridge…?" She paused. "Have you turned Slytherin on me?"

Hermione had to grin. "I thought I was getting it from you?" she asked, innocently.

Ginny only snorted softly. "You have to fight fire with fire, after all." She yawned. "Nobody's saying it's a bad thing."

"Mm," Hermione murmured, thoughtfully. "Sweet dreams."

"Good night."

xXxXxXx

The Dark Lord was not having a good night. He'd spent the entire evening after his discussion with Narcissa Malfoy in various muggle government buildings in London. He wanted to know if it was possible – could the Granger girl, who looked so much like his grandmother, be related to him? If so, how?

As he'd run through a plethora of documents and certificates, he had toyed with a few ideas of what to do with they were in fact related. He knew not to put the carriage before the thestrals, but his favourite scenario so far was to convince the girl to change sides. Firstly, it would weaken and devastate Potter. Secondly, it would come as an added bonus to him. More power for the Dark Side.

But first, he would have to confirm their relation. It wouldn't do to bring a muggleborn to the Dark Side without knowing for sure that they were related. It would never sit well with his followers nor him, to set a plan in motion based on a hypothesis. _That_ had led him only to trouble in the past.

As the minutes turned to hours, Tom was losing his patience. He knew it would be a hard task – he only had a few names to go on, and most of them were almost a century old. Tom Riddle Sr., Thomas Riddle, Mary Jehane Riddle, and, of course, the one Narcissa had given him – Hermione Granger.

He had started out with a book that was held by the Parkinsons. He had apparated there to find Alyssa Parkinson trembling like Narcissa, her husband and brother also having been arrested at the ministry. She had been a little bit more composed and had handed the book over to him and answered his questions to the best of her abilities almost stoically.

The book, which had come in good use to the Dark Lord before, was basically a registry of all the wizards and witches who ever attended Hogwarts. No one knew how the Parkinsons had come into possession of it, but it had been in their family for a few generations, so they weren't questioned. He'd only needed it for one reason – to make sure that Narcissa had her facts right. And she did.

He'd left to scour the government offices and any place with useful records. Truth be told, Tom was unsure of how to start. Should he try to dig up century old records on his family and try to follow connections until he hit the name Granger? Or go the other way around?

He had decided on the latter when he figured it would be harder to find older records. The first building he visited gave him primary information. Finding the most recent Grangers was easy – Hermione Jane Granger, born to David Sebastian Granger and Jane Helen Granger. Jane Helen Granger born to Andrew and Ariadne Jasper. David Granger born to Mark and Allison Granger. But no one after that. The next building gave him the same information, and then some, including grand parents, great grandparents, etc, etc. The problem quickly became clear. There were too many branches to follow.

The day was catching up on Tom and he scowled in fatigue and irritation at the papers before him, hitting a document and sending it flying into the air. He watched it float back down to the table, taking deep breaths. There must be a better way to go about this… He watched the document settle on the table. Hermione Granger's grandmother's birth certificate. Ariadne Baptiste, born to Mathias Baptiste and Cecilia Jehane Baptiste.

Tom stopped short. Cecilia Jehane Baptist. Jehane was a variation of the name Jane. His grandmother and Potter's best friend shared the same middle name. It had been in his face the whole time. Tom didn't know whether to laugh or scowl or scoff –– who the hell was this _Jane_ chit anyway?!

Cecilia Jehane Baptist. At least, he knew for certain that he was getting closer.

All at once, Tom stopped short.

Hadn't his father been seeing some girl named Cecilia?

He started shuffling through the documents and found Cecilia's birth certificate. Cecilia Baptist had been born Cecilia Riddle. Heart thudding loudly in his chest, Tom recalled the memory he'd taken from his uncle the day he'd attacked him. His father had ridden by the house with a girl named Cecilia. She'd been disgusted by the dead snake, he'd called her darling and told her not to mind it. Tom frowned. But that didn't necessarily mean that they were lovers? What if she'd just been a sisterly, younger relative? What if his mother and uncle had just mistaken a relative for a romantic friend and acted too soon?

Cursing under his breath, he started looking for more records. And soon found that he was right. Cecilia Jehane Riddle, only daughter to Stephen and Diana Riddle… Tom shuffled through a few more papers. Stephen Riddle was the younger brother of Thomas Riddle…

Oh.

Tom slumped down into a chair. There it was. They were related. He _was_ a little bit more than a halfblood and he _did_ have someone related to him who was a healthy, intelligent _magical_ being. A weight that he'd never known that was on his shoulders was suddenly lifted. He almost sighed a little before looking at the family tree.

What was she to him?

The tree before him suddenly swam before his eyes and he shook his head. He had never been one for familial terms. It seemed like a waste of time – who cared what you called one another as long as you have solid proof that you were related? It wasn't as important as correctly addressing… Say… A Lord. The tree solidified again. Unless Hermione Granger knew more about the topic than he did and wanted something more… appropriate… he would just call her his niece.

So how would he use this to his advantage? His favourite scenario popped back into his head. Turn her to his side. How?

Immediately, one name came to his mind.

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A few weeks later, school had let out for the summer. One pleasant afternoon, Hermione was with Ginny and Ron at the Burrow. Both Ron and Ginny were a tad annoyed at her for not joining their crusade to getting their mother to let them visit Grimmauld Place, but had let her be once they realized that she was still mourning Sirius Black. Ron had become uncomfortable about the subject and simply avoided discussing it with her. The three of them had been in the backyard when, with her brother sitting uncomfortably on the grass beside her, Ginny had _tried_ talking to her.

"Were you close to him?" the redhead had asked.

In response, Hermione had given her an utterly intelligent and clear shrug. She'd spoken to Sirius many times before; they had shared a few laughs. She had always had a hug when she greeted him and a kiss when she said goodbye.

Ginny had frowned. "It's fine if you don't want to talk about it." She paused, and tentatively added, "I think I know how you must feel."

Hermione had looked away and frowned a little. How would Ginny know what she was feeling? It was so strange – she'd never known anyone who'd died before. The first night after he'd died, she'd missed him. She simply missed him and felt sad – just _sad_ – over the fact that she'd never see him again. Then, she'd started thinking about Sirius' life, and _that_ was when she'd started to feel truly sorrowful for him. He grew up in the middle of a war, lost his three of his best friends in one night and was incarcerated for thirteen long years. He'd broken out of jail to be hunted, and then jailed in his own house, and then to just… _Die_. She couldn't help but think of how miserable his life must have been like. She felt so sorry for him and ached for him.

She'd been writing to Neville and Luna over the summer. Harry, she checked up on, but even through words on paper, she could tell that he was distant and uninterested in talking to anyone. Of course. If she was so upset over Sirius, how must Harry feel? She wished she knew how to make him feel better, but she just wasn't good at this stuff. She wryly thought that there were no books – or any that made sense to her – that helped with these issues. She finally found a bit of comfort concerning Harry when Luna told her that she'd talked to him. She then briefly wondered why Luna couldn't say anything to her, as well.

With this thought, Hermione turned back to Ginny. "If Luna lives around here, why doesn't she come around?"

Ginny shrugged, nonchalantly. "You just need something to preoccupy yourself with," she continued, not letting Hermione change the subject. "Trust me."

Hermione stared at her. "Oh?" she asked.

Ginny nodded before a mischievous grin broke out across her face. Before Hermione or Ron could react, she'd whipped her wand out of her sleeve and sent a Bat Bogey hex at both of them. Ron scrambled up with an indignant "hey!" and started running, trying to get out his own wand. Hermione shrieked, laughing a little, as she flew to her feet, also trying to bat away the bats from her face.

"Come on, Mione, you can do better than that!" Ginny laughed.

Hermione finally managed to take her wand out and banished the remaining bats just as Ginny sent another batch toward her. The new wave, which was directed only at her, sent Hermione stumbling back a few steps and she tripped over the long white peasant skirt she'd been wearing. Her world spun as she started falling backward and she yelped in surprise and fear. But before she fell and hit the ground, she fell against someone's chest and she felt strong arms wrap around her waist and steady her.

Hermione gasped, her heart fluttering in her chest, and turned a bit to see who her saviour was – and looked up into the face of Severus Snape. Her cheeks flaming, she murmured a thank you, not even bothering to look indignant when he did the Professor Snapian thing to do and shoved her away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ginny clasp her hands over her mouth, obviously trying to hold back her laughter, and Ron scowl at Snape.

Before anyone could say anything, Hermione felt a hand fall on her shoulder and she turned around. This time, she broke out into a smile. "Remus," she greeted. Remus smiled in greeting and she realized something was wrong when she noted his smile was rather forced and sad. Her own smile ebbed away. "What is it?" she asked.

Remus opened his mouth to say something, but paused. He reached out and gently pulled something out of her hair – Hermione winced when she saw it was a bat wing – and flicked it away before drawing her closer to him in a bear hug. "Come inside," he said, softly and started leading her toward the house. Hermione glanced back curiously at a dubious Ron and Ginny, but she let Remus lead her inside. Snape was leading the way, and she couldn't see the expression on his face, but got the distinct impression that something was wrong.

"It'll be fine," Remus murmured, quietly to her, as if he'd read her mind. But the frown on his face betrayed him.

Remus had been as close to her as Sirius had, but after the animagus' death, they'd grown closer. They never talked much before the last few weeks, but Remus had taken to sitting with her, especially if he happened to suddenly feel the blow of Sirius' death. The only two other people who were in as deep as either one of them were Harry, who was resenting the world at the moment, and Tonks, who just didn't seem to be talking to Remus. They never spoke of Sirius, either, but misery loves company. Remus had convinced Hermione to call him by his first name a few weeks ago. "I'm not your professor anymore," he'd told her. And then added, "Besides, you're all grown up now."

They went into the Burrow's kitchen, and Hermione was surprised to find Dumbledore and McGonagall there along with Tonks and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Tonks' usually unusual hair was a normal blonde shade that hung limply to her shoulders and her eyes were lackluster and dull. She smiled faintly at the younger girl as she walked to her other side. "Wotcher, Mione," she murmured.

Dumbledore acknowledged her presence with a small nod, but she saw that he was troubled. His eyes were as dull as Tonks'. What really startled Hermione was that her favourite professor, who was always collected and composed, was almost _sobbing_.

Hermione's mouth fell open as she regarded McGonagall. "Oh, sweet Lord, I've failed something," she deduced.

Remus suddenly let out a snort of laughter. "Never," he said, and squeezed her shoulder. "You had better sit down."

Tonks conjured a comfortable chair for her and Hermione slumped down, hoping to get a clue as to what was happening from her friend, but Tonks only shook her head.

"How is your summer, Hermione?" Dumbledore suddenly asked.

Hermione only stared at him. As casual as he sounded, now she knew something was wrong. He'd never called her by first name before. "Fine," she answered, simply. Her breath hitched nervously, and she stammered, "Yours?"

Dumbledore gave her a small smile. "I can't say." He paused and turned to the table. "A matter has arisen." Hermione noted that he wasn't meeting her eyes just as Tonks squeezed her hand. The headmaster continued. "We've yet to determine if it is an opportunity or a problem. But one thing is for certain, we can't just pretend it hasn't happened." He looked up and met her eyes. "A few weeks ago, just before school let out, Professor Snape was given a new task by Voldemort." Hermione's eyes flickered to Snape, who was staring expressionlessly out of the window. "His job is to convince you... To… To… " He paused, as if he didn't know the correct way to put it. He finally looked at her soberly. "Join the dark side."

For half a second, Hermione honestly thought that he was joking, but just then, a choked sound came from McGonagall, who suddenly pressed a handkerchief to her mouth. "What?" she asked, turning back to the headmaster. "But they can't. I'm muggleborn. It would make no sense."

Dumbledore looked a little uncomfortable. "Yes. You are. But, after he saw you at the ministry a few weeks ago, Voldemort – and everybody else who now knows, I assure you – was startled to discover that you are the spitting image of his grandmother." He paused, and added, "His muggle grandmother."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't understand."

Snape almost laughed out loud when she said that. A few weeks ago, he would have loved to have heard those words coming from her mouth. Now, it was just pathetic and irritating. Why couldn't the most brilliant witch of her age just figure it out?

Dumbledore hesitated. "While you are a Granger, a muggleborn witch… Technically, by blood… _Technically_," he repeated, stressing the word. "You are a Riddle."

Snape turned around to see Hermione respond with a blank deer-in-the-headlights look, which he suddenly thought didn't suit her at all.

Dumbledore nodded. "You being his flesh and blood, it's…" He shrugged. "Understandable, almost, that he would want you on his side." He paused. "He was orphaned at a young age, you see, he doesn't know what it's like to have a family. He is probably quite… Intrigued."

Hermione glanced at McGonagall, who still hadn't acknowledged her. "But I've fought beside Harry before. I've helped ruin his plans. Would he overlook _everything_…?"

Dumbledore inclined his head. "You forget that, to them, a good familial connection trumps everything that one does by himself."

Hermione shook her head. "That doesn't change the fact that I'm muggleborn. They would never…" She shook her head. "I haven't an ounce of pureblood in me. How can I be on the dark side?"

"Do what Voldemort did – he isn't pureblooded, either," the headmaster responded.

Hermione only looked confusedly at him.

Dumbledore readily responded, "Impress them with your powers and vast amount of intellect, and, most importantly, hang onto that one significant ancestral connection."

Snape finally spoke up, turning back to the window. "A feat that can only be managed by a Riddle."

Suddenly, Hermione realized why McGonagall was so upset. The seriousness of the situation finally settled on her and she looked at Dumbledore in shock before looking away to stare at her hands that were folded neatly in her lap. "What do you want me to do?" she asked, softly.

"We haven't been able to agree on anything," she heard Dumbledore say. "So we are letting you make the decision." He paused. "Spying is dangerous. If you are caught, the result could be disastrous. And fatal. I have two spies over there right now, and even they have trouble trusting one another at times. Everything, every place you go, every word you speak, is a carefully woven web that can never be undone unless you wish for death." He stopped, waiting for her to say something, but she just sat silently, so he continued. "Nobody wants to send you there. But nobody can also refute that, if you are careful and play your cards right, this is an opportunity that can further our cause like nothing has before."

"Fine." Everyone in the room, except for Snape, started and stared at Hermione. "It'll help, right?" She asked, glancing at the headmaster. Her hands were trembling in her lap, though she was trying hard to not let her fear show. "I'll do it."

Snape almost rolled his eyes. He hadn't expected anything less of her… Stupid, self-sacrificing Gryffindor that she was…

Dumbledore looked at the girl before him and tried to swallow down his guilt. He'd fought with McGonagall over this for the past few weeks, and he was the one who'd suggested bringing it to Hermione. McGonagall had thought that it was crazy – she refused to even letting her prodigy know what was going on. She had waved a white flag when she'd finally given up – there was always a chance that Hermione would find out herself and everyone had _known_ Hermione would accept a spying position when she did. It was a dangerous task and Hermione was too smart, too _logical_, not to account it… But she just didn't _realize_ it.

The headmaster wished he could just dismiss her. He had been sure that if any of the students could manage it, it would be her. But seeing her now… It figured that she would be wearing all white today – she looked like an angel stopping by earth. Her large warm brown eyes and chestnut curls only added to her look of purity and innocence. And the way she was sitting – eyes down, head bent, obedient as ever. She never broke the rules or did anything _bad_ unless it served the greater good. Also, what she was doing was self-sacrificial and generous, all in the name of love and friendship. He was sending a lamb to the slaughter. Hermione may be a Riddle by blood, but she was no more a Riddle than… Than –

"How utterly Gryffindor of you," Snape said to the brunette.

Hermione looked up and met his gaze. "Yes."

"Welcome to the Dark Side."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead.

Hermione was no more a Riddle than Snape.

xXxXxXx

A/n

There's the prologue. Like? Loathe? I promise more SSHG in the next chapter…

REVIEW!!

Luv

Creatress


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer - I don't own HP or anything related.

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Author's Note:

Here's chapter 1. Enjoy!

Luv

Creatress

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The Master's Queen

Chapter 1

Hermione tried hard not to fidget under Snape's cold gaze. The headmaster had ushered everyone out of the room so that the Slytherin may speak privately to her about what was going to happen. So far, though, the man only stood, studying her with a calculating gaze, as if trying to figure out if she truly was able to do this.

Finally, he moved to sit down in the seat across from her, where Dumbledore had previously sat. "You are not ready for this," he stated.

Hermione stiffened. She'd expected him to say that, but her pride flared. She looked up and met his gaze coolly. "Fine," she said. "Prepare me then."

The Potions Master's lips quirked, but it was hard to tell if it was because of her enthusiasm or because he thought she was being naïve. "That I will do," he murmured, quietly.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up a little. "What?" she asked.

"Give me your left hand," Snape suddenly said.

Hermione reached out across the table, not really thinking about it. He caught her wrist in a death grip and she winced. He smirked at the puzzled look on her face and tightened his hold a little, making her flinch.

"When you get there," Snape started. "I hope that you will be disinclined to obey every order that just anyone throws at you." He paused and smirked. "It may be hard – I know you've never disobeyed me before."

'To your face,' Hermione thought, defiantly, glaring at his fist around her hand.

"I was being sarcastic."

Hermione's eyes widened and she looked up at him in surprise, before flushing when she realized he'd read her mind.

"We'll have to work on your occlumency as well," Snape muttered. "Anyways, going back to my earlier point, I hope you realize you must learn to play your part. You obey the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord alone. Otherwise, you will fail sooner than expected." He ignored the angry flash in her eyes then and his grip loosened so that he was almost gentle when he turned her hand over so that her palm was facing up. "He may mark you."

Hermione's eyes widened.

Snape barely glanced at her before letting go of her hand to run his thumb over her forearm. "Right here. Is where he usually puts it," he muttered. "But we can't be certain about you." He retracted his hand and Hermione slowly pulled hers back as well. "You know what it means?"

Hermione nodded. "It means you work for him," she said, quietly. "You're supposed to go to him when it burns."

Severus nodded, somberly. But then something flashed in his eyes and he smiled a small, yet malicious smile. "The Dark Lord developed the mark early in his youth. It is – as cruel and frightening as it – ingenious. Very powerful. It has always been a mystery – how he got the idea of the Mark and developed it as a communications device." He looked at her carefully. "Now, Miss Granger. Care to tell me about your golden coins?"

Hermione stiffened and shook her head, her familial curls bouncing slightly around her head.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You made Potter those coins he was using to contact everybody in your merry little band of go-getters." He smirked. "They're very much like the Mark, wouldn't you say?"

Hermione scowled a little and looked away, flushing a little. "So what?" she muttered.

Snape smirked wryly at her uneasiness. "I do have business to attend to today," he suddenly said. Hermione turned to him and saw the smug smirk fade from his lips. His eyes hardened. "I'll have to leave you with a little task to do before I return and we can continue our… Lessons."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, watching him carefully. "What is it?"

"Your parents."

Hermione's heart almost stopped. "What about them?" she asked, quietly.

"They're muggles."

"So I've heard."

Snape frowned at her. "The Dark Lord does not want to deal with them. He has no wish for you to be in contact with them either." He paused and leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "He's basically trying to erase any muggle blood from your tree. Have it be forgotten." His frown deepened when he turned back to her. She was watching him expressionlessly, but her form was tense. "They won't be killed."

Hermione gulped a little. "But…?" she prodded.

Snape nodded. "I won't play your messenger boy. Neither will anyone else on the Dark Side nor any of the Order's spies." He paused and pinned her with his gaze. "Your assignment is to cut them out of your life for as long as needed." He waited for a few seconds, waited for her to react… But she didn't. Finally, she nodded stoically. He frowned, but decided not to use legilimency on her. "That is all."

Hermione stiffly got up and quickly left the room. She vaguely thought she heard Remus and Tonks call out to her, but she was in too much of a hurry to get to her bed, so that she could lay down and calm the queasiness in her stomach. She didn't want to face any of them now…

xXxXxXx

"You're _what_?"

"A Riddle."

Ron's mouth fell open and he closed it, only to have it fall open again. Ginny only stared at her, her eyes roaming all over her friend's face. "You… Look nothing like him," she frowned.

Hermione snorted, softly, thinking of the Dark Lord's snakelike face. "I should hope not," she said.

Hermione had rushed to the room she was sharing with Ginny, only to find her two redheaded friends there, waiting for her. She didn't even get a chance to ask them to leave her alone.

"Are you going to tell Harry?" Ron asked.

Hermione braced herself. "Harry will find out soon enough. I _will_ be spying."

"You're _what_?!" Ron shrieked again. "You can't tell me you're actually going along with this. It's crazy!"

"It's for the best," Hermione said, turning away from him. "It's for Harry."

"Harry will never let you!" Ron snapped.

"Harry can't as well stop me, can he?" Hermione asked, growing a bit annoyed at Ron's behaviour.

"You'll be all by yourself over there. It doesn't matter that you're related to You-Know-Who – you are still muggleborn, remember? The rest of the Death Eaters will get you while your uncle's not around!" Ron said, his voice rising.

Hermione glared at him. "Dumbledore's probably already thought of that. He has two other spies over there. Besides, none of those bastards will go against their Lord." She smiled, wryly and added, "You know – my dear Uncle Tom."

Ron only looked incredulously at her and Ginny winced a little.

"Who are the two other spies?" Ginny asked, curiously, her dark eyebrows furrowing. She ignored her brother when he shifted his unbelieving eyes to her.

Hermione shrugged. "Professor Snape, I suppose. And I don't know about the other one."

Ginny looked at her friend, pointedly. "Professor Snape is a spy – firstly, I doubt Voldemort has that much trust him. Secondly, if he's always so busy with his spy duties, he won't be able to keep an eye on you." She paused. "And we don't even know who this second man is. What if he's worse than Snape? What if he's, I don't know – Snape's evil twin?"

Hermione blinked at Ginny's poor ending to her sentence. The redhead was usually quite witty. She only started to blabber when – Hermione winced, guiltily – when she was stressed about something.

Ron held a hand up. "Wait, wait. If You-Know-Who thinks you'll be spying for him, you'll still be around here with us, won't you? You'll only have to risk going to…" He frowned. "Meetings, or something?"

Hermione shook her head, sadly. "No. Voldemort's apparently been getting a little… Crazy? Over this whole thing. He doesn't want me around Harry or Dumbledore. He instructed Snape to get me to change sides willingly or to kidnap me before Dumbledore found out about our connection."

Ron looked horrified. "What does he want with you?"

Hermione shrugged, a knot of fear building in her stomach. "I'm not sure."

Ginny looked up to the ceiling, thoughtfully. "Two reasons come to mind. The first, of course, is that, someone like him, who's had no kind of family whatsoever in his life, would want his only living flesh and blood with him." She smirked. "Maybe there's some humanity left in him, after all?" Her smirk turned a bit sour. "But, knowing him, it's probably something much less emotional, and more magical. You can do a lot of interesting magic with blood and bones and other body parts that come from the same bloodline." Ron looked horrified at these words. She turned to Hermione. "Remember how he needed his father's bones to come back to life? Maybe he could use little droplets your liquid crimson gold to further his power." She paused and frowned, thoughtfully. "Or maybe Dumbledore can harm him with you?"

Ron looked even more horrified and the knot in Hermione's stomach grew. "Hm," she mumbled, thoughtfully. "Books on this stuff would only be in the restricted section. Or at Grimmauld Place."

Ginny scowled a little at her. "But, we aren't there, are we?" Hermione frowned a little, remembering Sirius and Ginny let out a sound of exasperation, scowling. "If you do insist on going through with this, you're going to have to learn to be little less expressive of your emotions. Fall apart at every little thing, and he'll just get annoyed with you."

Hermione started, suddenly remembering that Ginny'd had a brush with Voldemort before. She blinked a little, not knowing what to say.

Ginny got up off her bed, which had been enlarged magically to accommodate both girls, and started pacing. "There is no way you can do this alone. It's foolishness."

"She's right," Ron agreed, nodding.

Ginny suddenly looked at him as if she'd forgotten he was there. "Ron, go to bed," she suddenly said.

Ron gaped at her. "What?" he asked.

"It's late," Ginny answered, gesturing out the window at the dark sky. "Get out. Go to bed."

Ron started to protest. "But - "

Ginny had already taken out her wand and brandished it at Ron, sending him flying out the door. Another flick and the door slammed shut, locking itself.

Hermione looked at Ginny in shock. "What was that all about?" she asked, trying to ignore Ron's angry shouts outside the door.

Ginny didn't reply for a second. "I wanted to talk about this between just us first," she said, settling back on the bed and facing Hermione.

"What's there to talk about?" Hermione asked. "I'm leaving."

"But it's not safe," Ginny cut in.

"Yes, I know," Hermione said, exasperated. "I'm trying not to think about it. I wish you would support me on this."

"I do," Ginny said, firmly.

"You have a funny way of showing it," Hermione said, sullenly.

"I do," Ginny repeated, pinning Hermione with her gaze. "I'm coming with you."

Hermione didn't even pause to consider that Ginny was joking. "Coming with me?!" she asked, her voice rising. She forced herself to quiet down when Ginny motioned at her to do so. "That's mad!"

"No, it's playing it safe," Ginny insisted, taking a hold of Hermione arm. "If I come with you, there's always someone to watch your back. Two heads are better than one, right?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "You're only doing this because you want an adventure – you hate being stuck here," she accused. "I couldn't take you with me!"

"Why?" Ginny asked. "You're the only living family he's got left. Make demands – say you'll switch sides if your best friend can come, too."

Hermione's eyes widened even more and her mouth fell open. "You can't be serious."

Ginny frowned at her. "Do I look like I'm joking?" Hermione didn't reply and Ginny's frown deepened. "I can't let you go alone."

Hermione turned away from her friend and held her head with her hands. "This is insane."

"Going alone is insane!" Ginny retorted in a loud a whisper.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, still not looking back at her. "It's been a long day. Let's just sleep on it and talk about it later." She got off the bed and went to her suitcase, which she'd put on a table. She opened it and started rummaging through her clothes for her nightgown, noticing that her hands were shaking again. She finally found the light blue gown and pulled it out. She closed the suitcase and placed the gown on top of it before starting to lift her shirt off. Behind her, she heard Ginny curse angrily. "What is it?" she asked, letting her shirt fall back and turning around.

Ginny was standing in front of her closet. "Nothing!" the redhead snapped over her shoulder before slamming the door shut. Without another word, she stormed out of the room, slamming its door as well.

Hermione sighed and started taking off her shirt again, pausing briefly when she heard Ginny call for Mrs. Weasley and ask where her nightgown was. Oh. She pulled her white top off over her head and tossed it onto the suitcase so that she could fold it later. She then slid her skirt off and threw it next to her top. Just then, she caught herself in Ginny's mirror and herself a once-over. Clad in only her white panties and bra, she picked out everything that she was insecure about.

She was too short – she hated being this petite, especially with her curvy figure. She always thought that she'd developed too much, too soon. Her hair was still a mess of random curls, waves and ringlets. During the times that she could bring herself to care about her appearance, she envied Ginny's long, glistening locks of crimson. Her eyes were a light brown and she thought they were so dull, very unlike Ginny's dark chocolate orbs or Luna's dreamy silver ones. She looked away from the mirror – it really wouldn't do to keep comparing herself to her friends and mope.

She took her bra off and slid the nightgown on. She then turned to her discarded clothes and started folding them. Just as she did, the door opened and Ginny came in, her nightgown thrown over an arm. She didn't even look at Hermione as she closed and locked the door again with a flick of her wand.

Hermione inwardly sighed, realizing that her friend was still angry. Being the peacemaker, she started to say something before she heard Ginny cast two spells. "Divesto. Vestio." Hermione turned around to see Ginny wearing her nightgown. The redhead then magically flicked her clothes into a wardrobe, its doors swinging open to let the garments in before swinging shut again.

Finished with her folding, Hermione went to her side of the bed and quietly watched Ginny as she settled in front of her mirror and started running a brush through her hair. Without quite thinking about it, she muttered, "I like your hair." In the mirror's reflection, she saw Ginny's eyebrows rise before the corner of her lip quirked. "No, seriously."

"Heard that before," Ginny murmured, sounding absent-minded although she graced Hermione with a small smile. "But you aren't going to flatter me into letting you go alone."

Hermione had to smile. "Worth a shot," she lied.

xXxXxXx

Hermione and Ginny had spent half the night discussing the problem. Every time Hermione slept over, they had the habit of talking late into the night just like any other girls would do at a sleepover. These carefree conversations, as they lay huddled together, shoulder to shoulder under the covers, speaking in hushed voices so as not to be heard, had always brought her a sense of peace. A sense of carefree calmness, as if there was nothing going on in the world outside Ginny's room that could hurt them. Last night, however, there had been nothing of the sort. They'd spoken quietly in serious tones about what would happen, how they would approach Dumbledore and her parents, what the Dark Side would be like. It was as these talks went on that the situation really settled on the brunette.

Hermione honestly hadn't realized the seriousness before. She would be removed from all of her friends and put amongst murderers and torturers as a spy. She was in a world of danger and had been refusing to see it before, but their late-night planning had forced it all onto her. But all of this paled next to the fact that she was the niece, the only living relative, of the most feared wizard on earth.

As Hermione had laid there with this settling over her, she'd become very aware of herself. She became very aware of each beat of her heart, the warmth of her flesh, the feel of her skin, and the rush of her blood through-out her whole body. Her blood… His blood. His blood was flowing through her veins. And even in the darkness, she could feel Ginny's gaze on her, searching her eyes, her nose, her mouth, looking for something that belonged to her new-found uncle. And this fact sent a wave of ice and fire coursing through her that that confused and frightened her all at once.

It was during one of the pregnant pauses in their conversation that the intensity of Ginny's gaze changed – not lessened or increased, just _changed_ – and Hermione had felt a lump form in her throat that kept her from speaking. Both girls knew it – that she'd found something. Hermione had started trembling and Ginny had silently given her a hug and kissed her temple, and mercifully said nothing. Instead of laying shoulder to shoulder like they always did, Ginny had held her and Hermione had laid her temple against her friend's shoulder, and that was how they woke up, bound in their newfound camaraderie and allegiance. Hermione never asked what it was Ginny had found, and Ginny never volunteered the information.

After they'd gotten dressed and went downstairs, Ginny had been pleased to discover that Dumbledore and Snape were at the Burrow, along with her parents. It would be better to let them all know at once.

"No!"

Everyone in the room started, except for Hermione and Ginny, who had expected this reaction. Hermione was sitting on the couch, staring at the burnt wood in the fireplace. She couldn't bring herself to look up at Mrs. Weasley, even when she felt the woman's gaze bore into the side of her face. She knew she would take the blame for this.

"Honestly, Mum," Ginny muttered, wiping the back of hand across a cheek. "You spat a little just then."

"You are not going anywhere!" Molly shrieked, ignoring her daughter's comments.

Ginny scowled up at her. Just as she was about to open her mouth and yell out a retort, she heard Hermione cough softly behind her. Right. Temper. She forced herself to calm down. "I wish you would see reason. Sending Hermione alone is nothing but foolishness and cruelty. At least with me there, she would have someone who she can trust to watch her back."

"And who would look after you?!" Molly demanded.

Ginny glanced at her friend. "Hermione, of course. I trust her. And more importantly, she trusts me."

Molly shook her head, frowning deeply. "No. Just no. Forget it."

Ginny looked away from her mother and turned to the headmaster. Looking him in the eyes, she told him, "Over the past years, none of our friends would have survived our… Adventures, if we'd gone alone. One or all of us would be dead. And those were child's play when you compare it to what Hermione's about to do." She paused, and appealed to the strategist in him. "And would it not be better for you, overall, if you had more people there?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "I understand that, Ms. Weasley." He craned his neck and looked around her at Hermione, who was still silently staring at the fireplace. "However, as passionate as you are, your friend is unexpressive of her own opinions."

Hermione glanced at Molly before replying. "While I'm well aware of all the advantages of her coming with me, I would honestly rather she wouldn't, for fear of her safety." She paused and looked into Ginny's hard eyes. "But I doubt I can stop her." She looked away again.

Satisfied, Ginny turned back to look determinedly at Dumbledore, ignoring her mother's grumblings.

Dumbledore stared at Ginny for a long moment. "Why do you wish to do this?"

Ginny looked startled by the question. "Wh – why?" she stammered. Dumbledore nodded. Ginny glanced back at Hermione and answered, choosing her words carefully. "She's one of my closest friends."

Dumbledore only stared at the redheaded teenager for another long moment, almost as if he didn't believe her, before voicing his next concern. "And if your parents don't agree?"

Ginny turned and looked at her parents as she answered Dumbledore's question. "If they don't choose to send me over there safely with Hermione, they'll have to risk the dangers I face when I run away from here." Arthur looked worried and Molly turned red with indignation. "Hermione has no one else here to support her and look after her well-being. Her parents don't even remember her, Harry knows nothing and Remus Lupin has been silenced." She narrowed her eyes, challengingly. "I hope my parents are good enough to open their hearts to someone other than only Ron's _famous_ best friend."

Molly's mouth dropped open, as did Hermione's, but Arthur finally spoke up before either one of them could. "Ginny, that was completely uncalled for. We love Hermione and she knows it. We are completely against her spying as well. But we stepped aside because it was her choice to make." He stopped talking and looked toward the ceiling, looking pained. "And you are only a year younger. We can stop you no more than we can stop her."

Ginny's look of relief and gratitude didn't ebb when her mother started shouting again and demanding her husband what he thought he was doing. Arthur took her hand and left the room, seemingly aware of the murderous look on his wife's face. Ginny turned expectantly to Dumbledore.

The headmaster turned to look at Snape, who only stood silently and looked at him with a stoic expression. The older wizard then turned back to the two girls, shifting his eyes from one to the other. "So it's done. You shall both go. Sit down, Ms. Weasley," he said.

Ginny turned around and gave Hermione a victorious smile, which her friend returned weakly, before wiping it off her face as she sat down, facing Dumbledore again.

Dumbledore looked at them, soberly. "You know what must be done to the Grangers." He rubbed at his temple. "I am terribly sorry, Hermione." Neither of the girls reacted. Dumbledore sighed a little. "I believe you are free for the rest of the day?"

Understanding what he meant, the girls simultaneously nodded and got up. Hermione glanced at Snape and her chest tightened unpleasantly when she saw that he was watching Ginny with an unreadable look on his face. She brushed it off – he was probably just worried that he may have to watch over her as well.

End of Ch. 1

xXxXxXx

Uh-oh. How will the Grangers react? And you just know that Severus will 'comfort' Hermione later. :P

REVIEW!

Luv

Creatress


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer - I don't own HP or anything related.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Author's Note:

Here's chapter 2… Lots of tear jerking in this chapter…

Luv

Creatress

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The Master's Queen

Chapter 2

Hermione had to stop and stare at the two-story brick house before forcing herself to take a step onto the walkway that led to the front door. It was an ordinary house, but it was special to her. She'd grown up her whole life here… Except for the years she'd spent at school. The outside was well-kept with a tidy, neatly trimmed lawn and various flowers planted here and there. The inside was homey, but with a modern touch. Her mother was always so cleanly and her father was forever doing renovations and such – for property value purposes, he kept telling them. Hermione was never really sure if he was telling the truth.

It was Friday night. They would have finished long hours at the clinic and come home by now. Her mother would be cooking dinner – Hermione had to smile – most likely something out of Rachael Ray's 30 Minute Meals or some such thing. Something healthy, that didn't take long, so that she could get to her crosswords in the paper or spending time with her husband. Her father was probably watching the news and shouting important headlines to his wife in the kitchen. As soon as it was over, he'd get up to try to help her with dinner.

Hermione's stomach twisted. She was nowhere in that picture. She had been, when she was a little girl. Either helping her mother gather ingredients or asking her father questions about the news. But she wasn't anymore.

She was away at school during the school year. But recently, she hadn't been coming home for Christmas or Winter Break. And she'd be home for maybe… What? A few days? After a little over a week, at most, during the summer, she headed to the Weasleys. She knew her parents missed her, but she knew what they didn't know – the war. The Grangers knew nothing about it because their daughter had chosen to keep quiet. They knew nothing about the racism, the attacks, and the murders – if they had, they would have pulled her out of school a long time ago. So how was she supposed to explain what she was about to do now? That now, she won't be home physically _and_ she would have to stop all correspondence with them because they were the descendents of the most evil creature on earth and she'll be going to live with him for a while.

Hermione reached out to press the doorbell, but froze. "I can't do it," she said. "There's no way they'll… I can't - "

"It'll be fine. You can do this," Ginny said from behind her. Her voice was firm.

Hermione gulped and rang the doorbell.

The door opened after a few seconds and Jane Granger appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a denim skirt and a red shirt. She had straight chestnut brown hair that came halfway down her back and brown eyes that widened when she saw who was on her porch. Breaking out into a smile, she caught her daughter into a hug. "Hermione, this is a surprise! What are you doing here?" She turned to the house. "David, look who's here!"

Hermione gently hugged her mother back, unable to relax. She almost sighed in relief when the older woman pulled away, but as soon as she did, her father appeared next to his wife and pulled his daughter into his arms. "We weren't expecting to see you until next year," he joked. His voice was rather dry though. "Get tired of the Weasleys, did you?" Her father was tall and broad shouldered, making his petite wife seem even smaller next to him. He had brown hair and blue eyes.

"David," Jane admonished, lightly. She turned her attention to the redhead who was standing behind her daughter. "Hello. And who might you be?" she asked, smiling welcomingly.

Ginny, who had never met the Grangers up close before, had to stare at them a little before giving them a half smile. "Ginevra Weasley," she said.

Jane's eyebrows shot up for a half a second. "That's a lovely name. A spin on Guinevere?"

"My mom's a trivia maniac," Hermione put in, her voice rather hollow.

Ginny smiled. "Call me Ginny."

Jane nodded before starting. "Why are we on the porch? Come in, come in," she murmured.

They all entered the house and Hermione stiffened under the familiar slight scent of the potpourri in the foyer. Her chest clenched uncomfortably as her father waved her and Ginny into the couch and sat them down. Her mother had run into the kitchen to check up on dinner.

David turned settled on the couch across the two girls and looked at them curiously. "So what brings you ladies here?" he asked, conversationally.

Hermione gulped, unable to answer. Where to begin, how to convince them…

"Hermione has something that she wants to tell you," Ginny put in.

David pretended to wince. "That never means anything good," he remarked. He turned expectantly to his daughter. "Hermione?"

Hermione couldn't take her eyes off the carpet. She'd never seen it before – her father must have had it installed recently. It was the colour of dark beige. It was soft, but not fuzzy and there was no speck of dirt anywhere on it. It was so clean.

Ginny turned to her friend to see that the brunette was staring at the carpet, her expression hidden behind the curls that had fallen over her shoulder. She frowned and touched her arm.

When Hermione looked up, her amber eyes were glazed and hard. Before anyone could react, her wand was in her hand and she'd sent a jet of bright light at her father. David didn't have the time to move out of the way – the hex hit him right between the eyes.

"_David_!"

Hermione and Ginny shot up off the couch.

Jane rushed to her husband's side as he slumped forward and slid off the couch and onto the floor. Being a doctor, the woman checked his pulse and turned incredulously to her daughter only after she detected the faint beating. "What did you do?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Hermione caught her mother's gaze and held it for a second, before shaking her head and raising her wand.

Jane's arms tightened around her husband. "Don't," she said. "Hermione, I am your mother. Don't - " Her voice broke before she was blinded by a white light, followed by an overwhelming darkness.

"That was unexpected," Ginny murmured. Her eyes roamed over the two people who lay unconscious on floor. "Whatever happened to trying to speak to them?"

Hermione slumped back onto the couch, covering her mouth with her hands. The look in her eyes was unreadable. Her wand lay on the couch at her side. "I don't know. I guess I… I knew I wouldn't be able to tell them. They would never have let me…"

"If my parents could have been convinced - "

"Your parents knew everything about the war. I never told mine anything," Hermione muttered. She eyed the two unconscious figures, wondering what she was supposed to do now.

"I see…" Ginny muttered. She stepped a little closer to the Grangers and frowned. "Exactly how did you alter their memory just now?"

"I took away every memory of me. They have no daughter now. And England's getting cold, so they'll be moving to Australia… There is no chance they might meet me, even by accident." As soon as she spoke these words, Hermione felt a strange coldness shoot through her. She was, by all definitions, an orphan with no family whatsoever. She was snapped out of this thought by a short, disbelieving laugh erupting from her friend. She turned to Ginny, surprised and wondering what the redhead could find so amusing about the situation.

Ginny sat down in the armchair, a wry smile on her lips. "You know… I kept thinking, how could Hermione be Tom Riddle's niece in anything other than name? They've nothing in common. It's so… This whole situation was so unreal. Until now." The smile faded from her lips when she glanced at Jane and David. "After his mother died, he didn't meet her family until he was sixteen. But when he got to their house, his grandfather had been arrested. It was only his uncle there."

Hermione, who was already familiar with the story through Harry, felt the whole of her body turn to ice as she listened to Ginny retell it.

"And Lord knows, dear Morfin was an idiot. I think all the world's problems can be blamed on him – he was, after all, the man mistook the relative for the romantic friend and pushed his sister to act insanely. But even when he didn't know all of this, it didn't take long for him to lose his patience with the only relative he had left on his mother's side." She paused. "You know what he did?"

Hermione nodded, stiffly. "Memory. He changed his memory."

Ginny got up. "I'll leave you alone for a moment." As she passed her friend, she paused and gently touched her hair. "I would use this time wisely. What you just did… You're becoming your uncle's niece."

xXx

Hermione had moved her father to the couch before levitating her mother to bed in the master bedroom. They could both wake up and think they'd dozed off. The dinner was starting to burn, and the smoke detector would wake them up in a few minutes. For a second, Hermione thought Jane Granger might find that strange – she'd never burned a meal before.

She met Ginny outside the house and they took the Knight Bus back to the Burrow, where Snape was waiting for them. Ginny ignored the Potions Master and went straight to her room, but Hermione was pulled into the empty kitchen where she was forced to relate everything that happened.

Snape smiled, coldly. "The Dark Lord would love to hear this. Is cursing the memory out of family members at sixteen an unspoken tradition in your family?"

Hermione scowled at the floor, but said nothing.

Snape quirked a shoulder. "At least you got the job done," he muttered. He looked at her questioningly. "Where did you get such an idea?"

"Nowhere," Hermione answered, evenly. She stiffened when she suddenly felt his thumb under her chin, propping her head up. But she didn't have a chance to react before he invaded her mind. She tried to tell him to let her go, but only managed a gasp under the pressure inside her head. She tried squirming away but he grabbed her shoulder to keep her still before reaching the events that unfolded at the Granger household. She saw him watch her hug her parents before cursing her existence out of their lives. She bared him trying to read her thoughts while she did it… But he couldn't. She hadn't been thinking anything. She'd just reacted… She'd coldly…

Snape abruptly pulled out of her head to look down on her with a frown as she gasped for breath, as if he'd been holding her under water for the past five minutes. "We really must work on your occlumency," he muttered, removing his hand from her chin. He smirked a little. "However. You might want to show that little confrontation to him."

Hermione scowled before she pushed away from him a little. "Why are you being so cruel?" she hissed. "It's not like I _wanted_ to do that."

Snape frowned at her. "It's not that you _wanted_ to do it. It's that you did it. The sensible thing to do would have been to at least _try_ speaking to your parents. Had they been unreasonable, then fine, what you did was _perfectly_ acceptable."

Hermione winced at his choice of words. What she had done would not have been deemed even remotely acceptable by anyone… Except maybe the Dark Lord.

"Look at me, Miss Granger."

Hermione started, before slowly looking up at him. "What?"

"Think of something. Anything that is important to you. Whenever someone probes your mind, keep thinking of it and think of nothing else."

Hermione suddenly thought of Crookshanks. She concentrated on her mental image of him, with his ginger hair, flat face and bushy tail... Snape was in her mind again. She stiffened when she felt the familiar pressure and tried turning away before he grabbed the bottom of her chin again and forced her to look at him.

"Stop that," Snape hissed. "Did I tell you that you can look away?"

"No," Hermione answered.

Snape roughly let her go, but kept a firm grip on her shoulder. "Looking away might be the easy way to break a connection, but I am strong enough to keep you from moving with my mind. Many Death Eaters are. If any one of us holds you physically still through the sheer force of legilimency, you will suffer damage. Ergo, it would be in your interests to hold still and only occlude for protection. Is that clear?"

Hermione dejectedly nodded, a small part of her noting that he had included himself in the group of mass murderers that he was _supposed_ to be spying against. Without warning, he was in her head again. She forced herself to think of Crookshanks, and Crookshanks alone… Crookshanks curled up in her lap, on her pillow, lapping at milk… As if by itself, her mind wandered to scenes that she should keep hidden – Crookshanks walking alongside a large, black dog. _Sirius_… Sirius disappearing, he was there a second, and then he was gone. The anger, the hurt and sorrow that came with his death…

Snape pulled out. His lips were drawn into a scowl that became more contemptuous when he saw that the girl before him was sniffling softly, obviously saddened by the memory of his former rival. "_Focus_," he hissed. He gave her a second to think of her cat again, before diving into her mind, being as gentle as he cared to be. For a few seconds, she did well – that mangy feline doing its everyday feline activities. She was weak, but she would get better with practice. She would. He tried reaching, once again, for the events of tonight. As he pulled them forth, she almost disappointed him. Almost.

The orange of the cat's fur reminded her of the Weasleys' flaming locks, which made her think of Ginny's crimson hair. Ginny at her side as she raised her wand… She didn't want to do it, no, she didn't, but… And out of nowhere, a tanned cloud took over.

Snape frowned, wondering what it was. He tried to get past it, but found that he couldn't. As soft as whatever it appeared to be, the girl was focusing on it strongly. What was it?

He increased the level of strength he was using and pushed harder against it. The memory flickered. He saw a few of her curls and a short flash of a brown haired man, sitting unsuspectingly on a couch. He pushed harder – and got a view of Hermione's steady hand, her wand clutched tightly in her fingers. In a few seconds, he'll see a white light erupting from its tip.

Finding a rare amount of mercy, Snape pulled out again. "Better," he remarked.

Hermione didn't say anything. Her head was spinning with various images. She was however, strongly aware of Snape's hand. His hand was burning through her jacket, through her sweater and into her shoulder. It felt odd when he removed it, as if she would stumble without him supporting her.

"I've placed a book on legilimency on your bed," Snape said before turning away from her. He paused at the kitchen table where he'd thrown his cloak over the back of a chair. "Read through it. Follow the instructions and start practicing with your friend. I'll be back tomorrow to help you along." Without waiting for Hermione to acknowledge that she'd even heard him, he left the kitchen.

Once he was gone, Hermione walked robotically up to Ginny's room, thanking God that no one had disturbed her when she appeared at the door. When she opened it and stepped inside, her friend was in bed, propped up against the headboard, a large text open in her lap.

Ginny looked up at her and gestured toward the door. "Close it and lock it," she said.

Hermione gently shut the door and fumbled with the lock for a second before getting it to work. She turned around to see that Ginny was frowning at her. "What is it?"

Ginny shook her head. "Nothing. It's just that I usually use magic to lock it," she muttered. Without waiting for a response, she gestured for Hermione to come to bed. "Tell me how _Snivellus_ reacted. No doubt it was priceless."

Hermione frowned, as she slipped her jacket off. "Why would you call him that?" She perched on the edge of the bed near Ginny's feet before taking her shoes and socks off.

"I don't like him," Ginny said, flippantly.

Hermione peeled her socks off, pausing to glance at the redhead. "A lot of people don't like him," she remarked.

"He doesn't think I should be coming with you," Ginny stated, evenly.

Hermione sighed a little before pulling her sweater off. Left in a tank top and her jeans, she turned to crawl up the bed to lay down next to Ginny, her head on a pillow close to the book in the redhead's lap. "_I_ don't think you should be coming with me," she murmured.

Ginny gave her a small smirk. "Really?" she asked. When Hermione nodded, Ginny turned to the book. "Frankly, Miss Riddle, I don't care."

Hermione gave her an exasperated look. "Why do you think he doesn't want you along?"

"The way he looks at me," Ginny muttered. She was frowning at the pages of the book. "He thinks I'll just be extra baggage for him to take care of." She glanced at Hermione with a small smile. "But then I suppose he thinks a lot of things."

Hermione looked up at Ginny worriedly. "We have to work together. All the spies."

"Working together doesn't mean he can order us about, Hermione," Ginny argued. "Would you do anything he tells you to do, all in the name of _working together_?" She flipped a page. "Besides, a lot of people here don't even trust the man."

Hermione gently rubbed at the shoulder he'd held and thought about that. "Will they lose their trust in us as well? When we leave?"

Ginny smiled, wryly. "They will." Catching the look on Hermione's face, she elaborated. "There's a war going on. Everybody's paranoid."

Hermione shifted her eyes from the book to the ceiling. "Hm," she muttered. "Do you trust Professor Snape?" The white of the ceiling was such a contrast when she thought of his dark gaze. A shiver passed through her.

"I don't trust him not to screw us over." Ginny looked down at Hermione and suddenly smoothed all of her curls to the side, out of her face before lightly running the tips of her fingers along her hairline.

Hermione suddenly found herself thinking about how gentle her friend's touch was, in comparison to how hard one Severus Snape had held her. Her shoulder now felt a little cool – his grip was so demanding. _He_ was so demanding. To torture her with her actions and then put her through bouts of legilimency so soon after such an experience.

"Why do you keep thinking about him?"

Hermione started and turned her attention to Ginny, who was frowning at her. "Huh," she muttered with the least amount of grace possible. "I… Umm… Who? Riddle?"

Ginny gave her a deadpanned expression before tapping the text in her lap. "I just read through instructions on legilimency and you're too relaxed to hide any of your thoughts. I can clearly see our beloved Potions Professor in your eyes."

Hermione flushed and scrambled up. "I was thinking about him because we were just talking about him." Her shoulder tingled.

Ginny nodded. "I see."

Hermione nodded, as well before reaching out to turn the book toward her. "Good," she murmured.

"Hermione."

"Yes?" Hermione frowned, flipping through the pages.

"Watch yourself."

End of Ch. 2

xXxXxXx

A/N

Oh, whatever could Ginny have meant by that? And Hermione's discovering more similarities that she shares with her uncle. So how _will_ Voldemort react when Severus tells him about the fate of the Grangers?

Severus is going to teach Hermione to further her occlumency skills in the next chapter – they barely kept from erupting in this chapter… I smell a full blown battle next time.

But passion is always a good thing, isn't it?

Luv

Creatress


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer - I don't own HP or anything related.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Author's Note:

Chapter 3. This one's longer than the others, so that should make up for the extra time I took with it.

Luv

Creatress

xXxXxXxXxXx

The Master's Queen

Chapter 3

"Severus. You were missed these past few days."

Severus allowed himself some relief when he heard the Dark Lord speak these words. A greeting usually meant that Voldemort was in a good mood. "My Lord," he muttered, kneeling. He could feel a very important parchment, a letter written by Hermione, in the pocket of his cloak.

"Get up," Voldemort said. "What brings you here?"

Severus rose and looked to the devil incarnate. Voldemort was sitting in an armchair, an open text floating before him. The sunlight streaming in through the windows were unable to reach him and his snake-like face was cast in shadows. "News of your niece."

For a second, Voldemort didn't react. Then he nodded. "What of her?"

"She will come here," Severus said, simply. "Now it's all just a matter of breaking her out of the hiding place Dumbledore has put her in."

"She accepts?" Voldemort echoed.

Severus frowned. He rarely checked things like this – the Dark Lord sounded most disbelieving.

Voldemort was quiet before continuing. "How did you convince her?"

"I'm not sure it was entirely me, my Lord," Severus said. He prepared himself to show the Dark Lord a variety of memories, some real and some altered. "I spoke to her, opened her eyes to a few of the wonders of the dark arts." He paused. "She's disposed of her parents."

Voldemort stiffened. "Her muggle parents? What did she do?"

Severus inclined his head. "It was last night. She had not told anyone about it, and she was too tired to speak of the events when she returned. There were problems with her parents, so she and a friend went to their household where she… Altered their memories so that they wouldn't remember her at all and sent them away to some island." He paused a little. "Smart girl. A killing curse surely would have been detected."

Voldemort, as Severus had expected, chuckled. "Memory curses are always… Useful."

Frowning inwardly, Severus pretended to be uncomprehending. "My Lord?"

"I used that trick on a family member when I was about her age. Some things never go out with the times."

Severus' lips quirked. "No, they don't."

Voldemort fell silent. "Is there anything else?"

Severus nodded and inwardly gulped, knowing that the words he chose next were crucial. "Yes, my Lord. As you can imagine, Miss Granger was… Not calm when she first found out of her relation to you." He almost relaxed when the Dark Lord didn't react, but simply waited for him to go on. "Her friends and the Order know - "

"Do you expect an extremely troubling problem with getting her here?" the Dark Lord interrupted.

"No, my Lord. It's not that," Severus muttered. He wished it was. "She has added a condition to her joining here."

Voldemort didn't react for a second. "What condition?" he asked, his voice even.

Severus reached into his outer robes and pulled out a rolled parchment. "A letter from your niece." He sent it to the Dark Lord with a wingardium spell.

Voldemort turned the roll of parchment over in his hands before fixing his blood-red eyes on his spy. His best spy. "Remember, Severus. This is to remain between us."

"Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort nodded. "Fine. You are dismissed, Severus." His spy gave him a short bow and was just about to open the door when Tom added, "I won't forget this." Snape gave him another bow and left.

The Dark Lord unrolled the parchment and read the first letter he'd ever received from a family member. His niece's handwriting, though smaller, was much like his own – neat and slightly slanted.

_Firstly, I apologize for the lack of an appellation at the beginning of this letter. You must understand, with all the circumstances, our past relationship, and because I'm unsure of our relationship even now, I don't know what to call you - Lord or Uncle?_

_You can't imagine how much of a shock it was when I first learned about our relationship. I suppose that blood truly is thicker than water. Now that Harry Potter and I can never even be in the same room together and the Order has no more faith in me, it only makes sense that I should come to you._

_I'm even more amazed – though grateful, as well – that you've put aside all of my actions in the past and have extended an opportunity for me to join you._

_However, the fact of the matter is that you are known for neither generosity nor forgiveness. While I realize that I can be of great use to you, it is still enormously difficult for me to trust you and, especially, your followers. The only one of your current Death Eaters who I would trust with my life is Professor Snape, even though I fear him more than I fear the others…_

Voldemort had to chuckle a little at her description of Severus Snape.

… _Also, I know that he will be at school or with the Order, fulfilling his duties as your spy for most of the time. It is for this reason, among a few others, that I humbly make my first request of you as your niece. Please allow me to bring my best friend to your court with me._

Voldemort stopped short for half a second. Her best friend…?

_Her name is Ginevra Weasley. _

Voldemort frowned. The name immediately conjured a face. That redheaded girl… A part of him vaguely felt like he already knew her, like he'd seen her in a dream or somewhere.

_You probably already know her, because of the incident with her and your diary._

Voldemort's frown deepened. His diary?

_I assure you that she is no threat to safety. In fact, she's the final reason that I take the risk amongst your followers. It's because she will come with me. I do not know the full story of what happened between you two when she was twelve with your diary but I know that it didn't end well, especially with what Harry told me. She was only twelve then, a scared first year at Hogwarts, and she had almost brought you to power…_

Tom's mouth almost fell open, and he stared for a long time at this last line. A mere child had almost brought him to power?! He quickly did some calculations – if Ginevra was Hermione's age, this would be about four years ago… He suddenly recalled a strange feeling somewhere around that time... He had felt a bit more… alive. Like he could feel the air. Almost like he could breathe a little…

_The Order believes she was forced to do them by you, but, now, in light of recent events, I wonder… Anyways, if she had been so useful then, imagine what she can do for you now?_

_She thought that she would stay and play the role of a spy, but I cannot leave without her. I would not be able to sleep easy at night without knowing that if she is not but a foot away next to me, she is only a few rooms down the hall. I honestly believe that you will give me this one gift – peace of mind – and I will request her, as your niece, to accompany me._

_I anxiously await your word._

_Your niece and servant,_

_Hermione Jane Granger_

_P.s. Shall we be changing my last name?_

Tom didn't have time to think about her final question. His heart was still pounding wildly because of this new information. His cause and his army were strengthening by the minute. He put Hermione's letter down onto the desk and lifted the sleeve of his robe. He suddenly found that he no longer cared about risking security – he wanted Hermione and her enigmatic friend here, with him, _now_.

He placed the tip of his wand upon his Dark Mark and called Severus to him again.

xXxXxXx

The Potions Master had left the study quickly. The Dark Lord was distracted – that much was obvious. He had trusted him enough not to probe his mind for more information about his niece. That wasn't normal.

"Severus."

Severus was snapped out of his thoughts by the soft, feminine voice. He turned around to face the blonde who had managed to unknowingly surprise him. "Narcissa."

Narcissa, for her husband being in jail and her sister being bedridden, looked as lovely as always, if openly sorrowful. "How did your meeting go?"

"Well," Severus answered, shortly, slowing down in order to let the woman fall into step with him. He was always careful to be polite to Narcissa. As cold and prejudiced as she was, she wasn't like many of the other women on the Dark Side. Every other Death Eater respected Severus for his spying abilities, his power and his favour with the Dark Lord – Narcissa had been one of the few people who had respected him before he'd grown to achieve everything that he had. She was one of the few people he ever felt guilty about betraying – he would ruin her life one day.

"Now that you are done, will you come to visit my sister with me?" the blonde asked.

Severus couldn't help the sadistic pleasure he felt then. "Oh, is she finally fit to receive visitors?" he asked. He hadn't been one of the Death Eaters who'd had the pleasure of punishing her for her failure, though he wished he could have been there to join in or at least witness it. Narcissa's older sister thought even more of herself than anyone else did. That insane woman would do anything to higher her status in the ranks, including selling out the others.

Narcissa nodded sadly. "She is still bedridden, but she has healed enough," she reported, dully.

Severus stopped when they reached the end of the hall. The exit of the manor would be in a different direction than the Lestranges' suite. "Unfortunately, I could not be there to help them," he said. "She probably wouldn't be happy to see me, so I think its best that we postpone our meeting."

Narcissa nodded, uncaringly. There was a faraway look in her eyes.

Severus felt that twinge of guilt again. "Worried about Lucius?"

Narcissa started, and then slowly nodded, her face starting to crumple. Severus, feeling put off by the woman's tears, almost took a step back. "Stay strong," he ordered, firmly. He saw with relief that the woman stiffened, obeying. "We'll get him out. Go to your sister."

"You will get him out?" Narcissa asked, faintly, hopefully.

Severus inwardly frowned, but he was saved from responding. For the first time in his life, he was relieved to feel the familiar burning on his left arm.

xXxXx

"Hermione? Hermione, wake up!"

Hermione moaned a little and tried to turn over in bed, but a hand was gripping her shoulder. As she tried to shrug out of the person's grasp, she thought she could vaguely make out the sound of someone yelling angrily in the distance… She was usually one of the first people up in the house…

"Hermione!" the voice snapped.

Hermione started a little, and then looked up into a pair of emerald green eyes. Angry, narrowed emerald green eyes. "Harry!" She scrambled to sit up. "What are you doing here?" Harry looked a mess – his hair was more tousled than usual, his face was ashen and his clothes were wrinkled. He also looked pale and tired with dark circles under his eyes. Over his shoulder, she could make out Ron and Ginny shouting at each other in the doorway. The sky outside was just starting to turn a shade of pink with the twilight.

"Hermione."

Hermione started and turned back to Harry. "When did you get here?" she asked. "Are you alright?"

"Hermione," Harry repeated, firmly. He waited until she looked at him expectantly. "You are not going to him."

Hermione was too tired to know how to react. A part of her wanted to flare up and snap at him that he wouldn't boss her around. Another part wanted to be deeply touched that he cared. "Harry…" She started, her voice tired.

"I'm not going to argue with you about this," Harry suddenly said. His voice had the same tired tone that hers had – he must have noticed this at the same time she had. He sat down on the edge of the bed so that they were at eye level. "You're one of my best friends." He paused, hesitating, clearly struggling with what he should say. Finally, he fought down on his masculinity a bit and spoke his feelings outright. "You're more my sister than his niece. I need you to stay with me."

Hermione had to smile before she leaned forward and pulled him into a hug. He relaxed the tiniest bit before stiffening again when she pulled away to look at him. "How did you get here?" she asked.

Harry jerked his head toward the doorway where Ron and Ginny were now silently glowering at each other. "Ron wrote me last night. I took the Knight Bus."

Hermione glanced at the two redheads before making a face. "Ron tattled?" she asked. She then winced at how childish that had sounded. It _was_ too early…

"I didn't know how else to make you see reason," Ron retorted.

Ginny looked like she was about to say something, but Harry scowled and spoke first to Hermione. "I can't believe I'm the last to know. You and Ron waited – how long has it been now? A week? Two?" For good measure, he glanced angrily at Ron.

"It's been hard trying to sneak letters out of here, mate," Ron defended, suddenly looking as tired as Harry.

Hermione grimaced. "We've known for a little over a week, Harry – I was waiting for the right time to tell you." Harry's eyebrows rode up and she noticed how dark they looked against his pale skin. "You look as white as snow," she murmured, touching his cheek, as if looking for a fever. "Are you alright?"

Harry frowned, almost cringing away from her touch. "I'm fine," he said, slowly. "_You_ look like death."

Hermione looked puzzled for a second before craning her neck to look at herself in Ginny's mirror. She hadn't noticed it for the past week, but all at once, she could see what Harry meant. Her hair had lost some of its life, her usually tanned skin looked dry and almost sickly, and her eyes were bloodshot. Her pupils were dilated to almost twice their size. Turning back to Harry, she cringed away from his knowing, rather disapproving gaze.

"I saw Ginny when I came in here," Harry muttered. "She looked as bad as you."

Hermione looked away, embarrassed. "We've both been working really hard," she murmured.

"Working hard on _what_?" Harry snapped, his gaze hardening again.

"Legilimency, occlumency…" Hermione listed, her voice trailing off.

"What else?" Harry pressed.

Hermione didn't answer for a second. "We've been reading up on a few things and practicing them on pillows, like in the DA." She caught the look on Harry's face and became exasperated. "It's not like we were hexing each other – we were just looking up things we thought would be useful over there. We wanted to know as much about the Dark Arts as possible before - "

"But you're not going!" Harry interrupted.

Hermione started at his tone and looked at him carefully for a second. She didn't notice their friends watching the scene from the doorway. "Harry," she started, slowly. "We're going."

"The hell you are!" Harry snapped, getting up off the bed. "I'm not going to stand by and send you right into his clutches!"

Hermione rubbed at the middle of her forehead – a throb was starting to develop between her eyes. Shoving the covers to the side, she stood up to face him. "Harry," she stated, her tone the same as his when he'd said her name earlier. It was something they had in common – the authoritative tone that made the people around them crumble grudgingly to their whims, knowing that there would be no budging on the issue. The thing was, Harry used it anytime during arguments on how to deal with the Dark Side and Hermione usually brought it out during study period. A part of her uselessly mused that this would be the first time they were both completely at odds on how to deal with Voldemort. She gulped. "We are going."

Harry scowled, obviously becoming irritated. "Repeating it over and over isn't going to change anything."

Hermione gulped and tried to keep her words even. "You can't stop us, Harry."

Harry looked taken aback for a second before his eyes flashed angrily. However, instead of retorting, he turned and stormed out of the room. Ron, who had been staring in shock at Hermione, snapped out of it and followed Harry. As soon as their heavy steps quieted with distance, Hermione sunk down onto the edge of the bed, her eyes burning terribly.

Ginny gently shut the door before frowning at Hermione. "Don't cry," she muttered.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not crying," she said, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat and looked up. "Let's not talk about it. Can we do something to get my mind off of him?"

Ginny crossed the room and nodded before stopping in front of Hermione. "Legilimency?" she asked.

Hermione nodded, trying not to show her discomfort. Ginny had a rather forceful, _rough_ presence. She could even say that she preferred fighting Snape out – he was forceful, too, but… _Smoother_. She looked up when Ginny cupped her jaw in her hands and tilted her head up. A second later, she felt the familiar, yet foreign presence start inching into her thoughts.

Ginny frowned. "I'm seeing Harry's Firebolt and Sirius."

Hermione started. She hadn't even realized that she'd been thinking about the time he'd given it to Harry.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Ginny asked, suddenly sounding as tired as Ron had sounded.

Hermione bit her lip a little, thinking. "When he first got it, I thought it might have been jinxed or something. He didn't want me to tell Professor McGonagall, but I did anyway." She paused. "He hated me for it."

Ginny rolled her eyes a little as she sat down next to Hermione. "He'll get over it. He loves you."

Hermione frowned and turned to look into Ginny's eyes, trying to surprise her friend with a shot of mind-reading. But all that she saw in the redhead's dark brown orbs was the top of her own forehead, her dark hair curling at the temples.

Ginny suddenly broke eye contact and looked away with an unreadable expression on her face before quickly turning back with a smile. "We should get dressed," she said, getting up.

Hermione suddenly thought of something that Harry had said and scrutinized Ginny. _She_ looked the same as always. "Do we look like death?"

Ginny smirked for a second before reaching out to run the back of a finger along Hermione's hairline and down her temple. "Looks aren't everything."

"Is practicing the Dark Arts affecting us?" Hermione muttered, a little worriedly.

"You look perfect."

xXxXx

Hermione was walking unsuspectingly down the rickety stairs of the Burrow, when suddenly one of the doors slammed open and she was hauled inside. The brunette didn't have a chance to react before the door slammed shut behind her. Her heart racing, she blinked, looking around in the dim light and finally relaxed when she saw Severus Snape standing next to the closed window. She glanced back at the door, uncertainly. "What… What is it?"

Snape gestured toward an armchair, motioning for her to sit down.

This didn't settle well with Hermione. He was never the type who had people sit down for no reason. What could he have to say to her that was so bad that she had to be sitting?

Hermione walked to the armchair and sat down on the edge of it. "Can't we open a window?"

"I believe some of the boys are flying about outside. I don't want to call attention to this," Snape muttered.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, growing worried.

Snape looked at her, matter-of-factly. "Potter doesn't want to let you leave."

Hermione didn't answer for a second. She shuffled, a little nervously before sighing. "Who told you?" she asked.

"After speaking to you, he had a row with Albus via floo." Snape left his place by the window and paced a little. "The boy is more unreasonable than ever. Do you realize that now, instead of faking a break-out, I'll actually have to help you really run away from here?"

Hermione's temper flared and she looked up angrily at him. "Harry won't stop me. He can't as well tie me to the kitchen sink, can he?!"

Snape suddenly smirked, as if amused by the idea. He looked troubled though. "How is your legilimency and occlumency coming?"

Hermione winced a little. "We've been practicing a lot."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "On?"

Hermione thought for a second. "Well, Ginny and I have been practicing on each other. But sometimes, I try it on some of the others, like Ron or Mrs. Weasley to see if I'm getting stronger."

The corner of the Slytherin's lips quirked the tiniest bit. "And?" he prodded.

Hermione got a bit excited, a feeling of triumph running through her. "At first, it was really hard. I could barely see anything. But yesterday, I was in Ron's head for over a minute before he noticed me staring at him. I saw _everything_."

"Is that so? I imagine there couldn't have been much to see."

Hermione almost smiled at his flippant tone, but bit the inside of her cheek and forced herself not to. He was half right – Ron had, actually, been thinking of Tonks, as surprising as it was.

Snape looked at her curiously before crossing the room to stand over her. "Let's see how your occlumency is."

Hermione gulped, feeling her blood running colder. She looked at him, though, and prepared herself.

Snape looked deep into her butterscotch eyes, looking for a firsthand account of her argument with Potter. As soon as he started searching, though, that soft beige wall snapped up. The Potions Master frowned, once again wondering what the thing was. He tried to work his way around it, delving into the other recesses of her mind, looking for anything. The wall followed him. He almost smiled – she was stronger now. Much stronger. But he was stronger still. Using more force than what was probably necessary, he punched through the wall.

Snape suddenly heard Hermione let out a pained yelp on the armchair, and he instinctively caught the bottom of her jaw and her shoulder to keep her still. After getting a few visions of her and Harry in Ginny's room, standing toe to toe, neither willing to budge on their problem, he pulled out of her mind. Hermione let out a satisfying gasp before falling back against the back of the chair, her eyes screwed shut. She brought a trembling hand to her forehead. "It seems you have a ways to go," Snape remarked, patronizingly before stepping away from her.

Hermione opened her eyes and tried to glare at him, but the slight glaze of tears passing over her eyes dimmed the effect. She shuddered when a throb passed through her skull and tried to sit up. "Is that all?" she asked, her tone biting.

Snape smiled, wryly. "You would wish." A second armchair suddenly fell out of the air to land next to him and he sat down, about a meter away from her. "Your uncle has moved up the date of your leaving here. He is quite… Anxious. To see you."

Hermione gulped. "He wants to see me?" she asked. Snape gave her a curt nod, and she furrowed her eye brows a little before turning to look at the closed door. "What did he think of my letter?"

"It worked," Snape said, shortly. "He is more trusting of you and he didn't ask me any hard questions." He paused and looked at her pointedly. "However, it took us a step back as well. Now he wants to see you as soon as possible. In fact, he's given me a deadline."

Hermione frowned as these words, a shiver passing threatening through her. "Deadline?"

"If I don't produce the two of you there by tomorrow morning, I will be dead."

Hermione started and turned to him in shock. Snape was looking soberly back at her. "Tomorrow morning?" she breathed.

Snape leaned forward a little. "We have much to discuss now," he said. "Read my mind – I'm showing you another spy."

Hermione raised her eyes to meet his onyx orbs and suddenly saw a man who contrasted sharply against his black background. She vaguely remembered him from a meeting. He was obviously Albino, with alabaster skin like Snape, and with even whiter hair that suddenly made Hermione think of fresh snow. He was dressed in dark navy robes in this image and his face was expressionless, but he was altogether handsome man. When Hermione pulled out, Snape continued.

"This is Jasper Surgeon," he said. "You may have seen him during some of the meetings."

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "From now on, keep a careful eye on _everyone_ you meet." He waited for Hermione to nod obediently before going on. "He'll be helping me transport you two. I will take you to the castle where ever the Dark Lord's court will be at by tomorrow, and Surgeon will take Miss Weasley."

Hermione frowned. "Where?" she asked.

Snape smirked rather coldly. "All this time, he had been hiding out at Malfoy Manor. But I suppose he has decided that your first meeting should not occur in the place of one of his lowly followers. That, and - " Snape gave her a pointed look at this point. "My mistress is too high and mighty to be stuffed into an old manor."

Hermione gave him a deadpanned look, not in the least bit amused. "He did _not_ say that," she ground out.

Snape shrugged a little. "I believe it's for the best. Did you _want_ to stay at the Malfoys?"

Hermione frowned, finding some logic in this and then gave him a wary nod. "No, I suppose it's good that he moved then."

"High and mighty," Snape muttered. He ignored the scathing look he received from the Gryffindor then. "We had a rather lovely discussion on where to put you. Either the Riddle Mansion – smaller than Malfoy Manor, but it's _ancestral_, which is always good." Hermione scowled, and the Potions Master chose to ignore her. "Or his newly acquired Barrenhurst Castle, which was a gift from the Werewolves." He paused and frowned. "One has to stop and wonder how _they_ got it."

Hermione had paled a little. "Werewolves?" she whispered.

Snape raised an eyebrow at her uneasiness, before slowly smiling. "They'll be there," he promised.

Hermione scowled. "Now what?" she asked.

Snape got up to look down at the young woman with a frown. "You've a long day ahead of you. Practice – learn as many spells as you can. And then start packing." He turned to leave.

Hermione practically leapt up off the couch. She was about to call after him, but froze when he turned to her at the door.

"Potter won't let you do this without a fight. At 3:00 AM sharp, you and Miss Weasley will meet Surgeon and myself in the street in front of the house." Snape opened the door. "Pack lightly. Remember what this is – I wouldn't say good-bye to anyone." And then he was gone.

Hermione stood stock still for a second, before her legs started moving. She shot downstairs to the kitchen, where Ginny was, thankfully, alone. Before Hermione could get out a word, she was ordered to sit down.

"Eat something," Ginny added. "Have toast." She had her wand pointed at a couple of bread slices that were floating in the air in front of her, slowly turning darker with heat.

Hermione looked blankly at them before her stomach twisted in hunger. She reached out for one of the toasts and almost dropped it because of how incredibly hot it was.

Ginny smirked. "_These_ are the Dark Arts – they can't teach us how to toast bread in school because we might do it a human being."

Hermione frowned, sitting down with her toast. "We're leaving tonight," she hissed, her eyes staying glued to the kitchen entrance.

Ginny didn't react for a second. A plate suddenly shot of the counter to land silently on the table before the slices of toast fell on it. "Where?" she asked, casually.

Hermione glanced at her incredulously. "To go to him."

Ginny frowned. "Where is that exactly?"

"He hasn't decided yet. Either Riddle Mansion or some castle called Barrenhurst."

Ginny turned to Hermione, thoughtfully. "Dumbledore's supposed to think that we're running away from here. We can't go to Little Hangleton – you'd think the man would think to check there."

Hermione swallowed down the dry, plain toast, not even noticing the taste. "We've work to do."

"Let's go then."

xXxXxXx

It was around 2:45 AM when Hermione slowly opened the door to Ron's room. Ginny had taken their things and already gone downstairs. She stood silently, not really knowing what she was doing. The crescent moon outside provided the dim light in the room and she saw that both boys were sleeping peacefully. She hadn't spoken to either of them all day.

Leaving like this pained her. She wished she could hug them good bye, but she couldn't. They wouldn't let her go.

Hermione gulped, and she was suddenly attacking her parents again. This was the same feeling she'd experienced then – horror, anguish and _loss_. Before she could burst into tears, she waved her wand to send a small, neatly folded note flying through the air to land on Harry's pillow, beside his bed. Praying to God that everything would be alright, she softly closed the door.

Hermione regained her composure and steeled herself before heading downstairs. Her stomach was hurting. A few minutes earlier, Ginny had muttered something about feeling butterflies. The brunette now smiled, ruefully – butterflies, indeed. Killer, venomous butterflies with machine guns, for good measure.

The Burrow was strange and seemed like a completely different place in the dark and without people. She made her way through it, to the front door, trying not to tremble.

The door opened silently and she quickly shut it before quickening her pace. There was more light outside because of the moon, but it was chilly for a summer night. Or maybe it was just her nerves.

She could see the Potions Master waiting for her on the sidewalk, his hair and cloak slightly billowing in the wind. She rushed over to him, glancing around for Ginny and Surgeon.

Snape greeted her snarkily. "_Mistress_."

Hermione chose to ignore him. "Where are they?" she asked.

"They've left," Snape said, shortly. He held out a leather gloved hand to her.

Hermione reached out, surprised at how steady her hand was, and placed it in his. She gasped a little when he tightened his grip around her hand and pulled her closer to him, so that she was almost touching him.

"You're sure you want to do this?" Snape asked, his dark eyes blacker than ever.

Hermione thought she saw a flash of concern in them, but when she looked closer it was gone. "Yes," she responded.

Snape squeezed her hand. "There is no turning back after this." He took his her rigid, ready form and her eyes. Her amber eyes were sure. Scared, but sure. "I need you to trust me."

"Yes."

"No matter what."

Hermione surprised him when she smiled, softly. "I've always trusted you. No matter what."

That _was_ true.

Snape graced her with a small smirk. And then, he apparated.

End of Ch. 3

xXxXxXxXx

A/n

Whooo…. Wasn't that a nice little exchange between them at the end? Hmm, how long will this last, I wonder?

And in Chapter 4, Hermione will meet Uncle Voldemort. And she'll meet Fenrir. And Narcissa. And Bellatrix.

As for the SSHG action next chapter…

They're all on the Dark Side now, so _Hermione's_ in charge of Severus. In public, that is. I wouldn't order Severus around much, Hermione. Our beloved Potions Master can always take his revenge behind closed doors.

Review.

Luv,

Creatress


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer - I don't own HP or anything related.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Author's Note:

Chapter 4. Tried to get it out as quickly as possible…

Luv

Creatress

xXxXxXxXxXx

The Master's Queen

Chapter 4

Hermione's head spun for a second, but as soon as the feeling of travel passed, the adrenaline kicked in and she stiffened, opening her eyes. They were standing in a dimly lit hallway, seemingly alone save for the sleeping portraits on the walls. The only sound Hermione could make out was the quick beating of her heart. Unconsciously, she gripped Severus' arm tighter.

Severus looked down at her as she scanned their surroundings before raising her eyes to meet his questioningly. "Barrenhurst," he answered, simply. "Dumbledore would have been expected to check Riddle Mansion."

Hermione inwardly winced – it seemed that had occurred to everyone except her. She glanced up again to see the Slytherin watching her with a frown. "What is it?" she asked.

"I can't stress how imperative it is that you be careful," Severus answered, his tone hushed. "I actually take some comfort in the fact that you were the most reasonable of your trio at school." He dropped his voice even further and leaned in closer, so that his lips were inches from her ear. "Trust, my mistress, is the most important thing here. Misplaced or a lack of it can prove deadly."

A shiver shot through Hermione at these words. He had been holding her through the apparition, but now that he was closer, she thought she could suddenly hear his beating heart along with her own. His was slower, calmer and it made her suddenly think of something. "Who do you trust?" she whispered.

Severus didn't answer, but suddenly looked to the side. "Let's get you to your room," he said, letting her go.

Hermione felt a sudden feeling of emptiness and dread at his reaction, but quickly followed him. His answer angered and hurt her, but she couldn't as well argue with him now as they were running through the enemy's castle with sleeping portraits all around them. Why couldn't he trust her? Did he expect her to grow attached to Voldemort and truly trade sides? She would never…

Hermione almost ran into him when he suddenly stopped at a door. "Your room," he muttered, opening the door.

Hermione glanced at him curiously before stepping into the chamber. She immediately had to stop and gasp – it was _beautiful_. It was well lit thanks to a large, roaring fire in the walk-in fireplace, a large candle-lit chandelier, and many other candles around the room. The walls were covered with bookshelves and paintings of landscapes. At one end of the room was a large, four poster bed with red and gold hangings and at the other side, in front of the fireplace, was a sitting area with comfortable-looking chairs and a coffee table.

"How do you like it?"

Hermione ignored the sarcasm in his tone. "A little much, for my tastes, but there's no denying its charm," she answered clinically.

"Well, as soon as you're done ogling…" Hermione whipped around to see Ginny step into the room as giving Severus a frown as she passed him in the doorway. She had changed from her clothes to dark blue robes that were trimmed with bronze. "I need you to get dressed."

Hermione glanced at Severus, but saw that the Potions Master was looking at Ginny curiously as well. "For what?"

"The Dark Lord sent Surgeon a house elf. He wants to see you _now_."

xXx

Hermione gulped. She couldn't even stop trembling – how did Ginny expect her to stop _thinking_ about everything altogether? The robes – a rich shade of dark amethyst, trimmed with black and gold – that she'd robotically dressed herself in were suffocating her.

"Hermione, get a grip," Ginny hissed, pulling her toward the dresser and mirror. "Snape'll be back any minute to take us down."

Hermione snapped out of her reverie at this. "Oh… Oh, Gods…" she whispered, her eyes widening.

Ginny frowned a little. "Hermione, I love your muggle heritage, even though it puts us in an incredible amount of danger. Not to sound prejudiced, but if he hears you say something so muggle, he'll probably kill you."

Hermione started. "Oh!" she gasped. "I hadn't thought of that." She frowned. "What do I say then? 'Oh, Merlin?'"

Ginny smirked. "No, dear. When girls are serious, we say 'Circe.'" Hermione only blinked. "No one cares at school, but everything seems drenched in tradition here." She ran a finger across Hermione's velvet-clad shoulder. "That's why you're the one wearing the royal colour."

Hermione blinked, taken aback. Wasn't that a muggle matter about purple being royal colour? She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the make-up table. She didn't look so good – she certainly didn't look like royalty, even in the exquisite robes. The little knot of insecurity at the bottom of her chest throbbed a little when she turned back to Ginny and thought the other girl looked more like a queen, never mind a princess, though her robes weren't purple and gold.

Ginny seemed to have read her mind and she smiled, knowingly. Hermione almost flushed. Ginny pushed the other girl down onto the stool in front of the dresser. "Your uncle obviously doesn't care for… Physical appearances," she said, slowly and smirking a little at the end. "But he's not the only one that you have to make an impression on. Any Death Eater and follower who see you tonight must learn who you are."

Hermione stared at her reflection, her eyes mostly focused on her unruly hair. "Must they?" she frowned.

Ginny smiled a little and leaned forward, affectionately resting her chin on the crown of Hermione's head. "Safety reasons?" she offered. She straightened again and gently ran a hand through the older girl's curls, frowning a bit. Hermione looked crestfallen and Ginny's expression softened, a look of mercy passing over her features. "Have you ever seen a painting of any Greek goddess?"

"I'm part Greek. Of course, I have," Hermione replied, sullenly.

Ginny gently touched her hair. "Aphrodite, Athena, Artemis, Hera… All had hair like yours." She smirked when she saw Hermione's eyes widen. "You could look like someone who walked off Mt. Olympus. Your name suits you now. You _are_ a Greek princess." When she saw the corner of Hermione's lips quirk, she reached into her sleeve and pulled out her wand. "We'll just brush it out and do something."

A few moments later, Hermione's hair had been pulled back into a simple, but pointedly elegant style, with half of her hair piled at the back of her head and the other half flowing freely down her back. A few tendrils hung stylishly around the sides of her face. A few more simple spells by Ginny and her face looked its fresh, sun-kissed self again. Once she was done with her friend, Ginny pointed her wand to her own hair and pulled all of it back into a loose, stylish bun at her nape.

"Are we done?" Hermione asked, sounding rather petulant.

Ginny studied her. "You have no jewelry on."

Hermione frowned and gently touched the two, small studs on each of her ears.

"You have no necklaces," Ginny clarified, frowning. Her eyes traveled to one of the drawers on the make-up table and she pulled it open. "They certainly made everything easy for you to find." She rummaged through the jewelry and finally pulled out a necklace. It was a thick, very intricate golden choker lined with amethysts. When she held it out to Hermione for inspection, her friend cringed away.

"I won't be able to breathe in that!" Hermione gasped. She frowned and gingerly touched her stomach. "It's already difficult to breathe in these robes, but that necklace is going to finish the job." Ginny only laughed as she started putting it away. "Honestly, Gin, you're going to kill me before any of the Death Eaters do."

"What do you want then?" Ginny asked.

"Something simple," Hermione said, leaning over and looking into the drawer. She groaned a little when she saw how large and intricate all the jewelry seemed to be.

Ginny frowned a bit and then, with a pained look on her face, reached under her robes and pulled out a long, thin red ribbon. "Like this?" she asked. With a final tug, the pendant came free. It was a small, golden, intricate P.

Hermione blinked and reached out to prod at the golden letter. "I've never seen this before," she remarked. "It's pretty."

Ginny shrugged. "My grandmother gave it to me a few years ago when I first started school. It's my good luck charm. My mother doesn't know I have it." She sighed a little. "Would you like to borrow it for tonight?"

Hermione looked at her. "What does the P stand for?"

"Prewitt."

Hermione smiled, softly. "Then I can't wear it – what if he asks?" She reached into the drawer again and pulled out another thin golden necklace, this one hung with seven small red jewels. She frowned and slipped her wand out of her sleeve. After changing the rubies into amethysts, she gave it to Ginny to help her put it on. "Am I ready?" she asked.

Ginny nodded and stepped back as Hermione stood. Hermione giggled, suddenly, fingering her robes. "All of this wizarding velvet," she murmured. "And - " Without finishing her sentence, she lifted her skirts a bit and stuck a foot out to reveal a worn, white sneaker.

Ginny laughed out loud. "I suppose it won't matter as long as he doesn't see," she said. Then, she frowned. "Let's make sure he doesn't see. Bow."

Hermione's eyebrows rode up. "Bow?"

Ginny nodded. "Bow. I want to make sure your robes are long enough to hide those shoes." Frowning, she looked around the room and added, "We don't have time to look for proper wizarding footwear."

Hermione only gave her a blank look. "Bow… Um, okay." Awkwardly, she bent forward a bit.

Ginny blinked. "No."

Hermione shook her head. "I've never met the queen of England. Why on earth would a girl like me know how to bow?"

Ginny laughed shortly. "You are lucky I'm here." She took Hermione's hand and led her away from the chair so that they would have more room. "And you're lucky I grew up with books filled with old tales, accompanied by pictures. Hopefully, they're all accurate." She stepped away and gave Hermione a rather fake smile before bending her head while simultaneously lowering herself to the floor so that she was almost on her knees, holding most of her weight on her ankles. Her hands were clasped in her lap, against her stomach. "Got that?" she asked before springing up.

Hermione nodded, unsurely. When Ginny told her to try it, she hesitantly mimicked her friend's motions. When she was down, she almost crumbled to the side before regaining her balance. "This is uncomfortable."

Ginny smirked. "I know. Horrible, isn't it?"

Hermione scrambled up. "I'm so glad you'll be coming with me," she said, honestly.

Ginny looked at her. "You know I'll only be accompanying you to his door, right? The only person I'll be bowing to tonight is _you_."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "I'll be with _alone_ with him?!"

Ginny looked like she wanted to laugh. "Dear, darling niece," she said. "Where did all that Gryffindor courage run to?" Hermione only shuddered. Ginny continued, serious again. "Before you leave, you just do this." She lowered herself again, this time ducking only a foot before straightening. She saw the look on Hermione's face. "Don't worry," she said, gently. "I'll be right outside the door."

Hermione didn't look comforted. However, she did look gratefully at Ginny. "Thank you," she said, honestly.

Ginny gave her a small smile and pulled her into a hug. "It'll be fine," she said, firmly.

Just as she said that, a knock sounded at the door. Hermione stiffened and Ginny gave her hand a squeeze before going to open it.

Ginny opened the door a crack and saw that it was Snape who had knocked. He looked at her as disdainfully as he always did. She frowned and looked around him to see another Death Eater, who was younger, awkward-looking and fidgeting with his wand. His fidgeting stopped when he saw her and he simply gaped. She decided to ignore him and turned back to her Potions Professor. "Yes?" she asked.

"Miss Weasley," Snape said. "The Lord is ready to see his niece." He stopped and eyed her. "You won't be accompanying her?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. "Of course, not, Master Snape," she said. "I shall, however, walk with her. If you do not mind." Without waiting for a reply, she shut the door and turned to Hermione.

Hermione stared at the carpet. "It's time," she stated.

"You're a spy. Play your role." Ginny stepped up to her and chucked her under the chin. "Head up," she stated. "Shoulders back. Back straight. They bow to you. Not the other way around." Hermione nodded, obediently and Ginny continued. "You are the Dark Lord's niece, his only living flesh and blood. You are a Princess. Play the part."

Hermione nodded, again, keeping her head up as Ginny had instructed her to. She smiled, still rather nervously. "Let's go."

Ginny smirked and went ahead of her, opening the door. Hermione followed her out.

xXxXxXx

Severus was aware of his subordinate's fidgeting behind him. If he wasn't so worried about the situation at hand, he would have turned around and crucioed the blond out of the kid's hair. Obviously, the young man had drawn the short straw amongst his friends and had to try to casually fall into step beside his superior and accompany him to pick up the Lord's niece. News had spread like wildfire throughout Barrenhurst that the Lord had kin and now everyone wanted to see the new girl on the Dark Side.

The novice behind him – What was his name? Howards? – had stopped in awe when he'd seen Miss Weasley. The young man had asked if that was her and Severus had snapped, that no, it was not her. Howards had sighed a little. "She was pretty," he mused. Snape chose not to answer.

A second later, Miss Weasley came back out, followed by – Severus had to stop and look closely at the brunette for a second. He'd never seen her in wizarding robes before – she had _not_ looked like that at the Yule Ball. The young girl he'd known at Hogwarts had grown into a lovely, young woman in the span of a half an hour. Her beauty was softer, more innocent compared to the rather cool boldness of her friend, but she held herself with more confidence now.

Expressionlessly, Hermione eyed Howards – who, Severus suddenly realized, had stopped fidgeting. He turned around to see the novice bow low.

Just then, Hermione's eyes flickered to him and he was suddenly able to see past her new, cool exterior. Confidence and bravery were sincere in her amber eyes, but she was also scared, in an unfamiliar place with a dangerous job to do. He comforted her in the only way he could and gave her his sternest expression. Then, he bowed, shortly, rising before she'd given him permission.

Hermione blinked and, starting a bit, turned to Howards, who was still bowing. She looked to Weasley for help, but the redhead only frowned at her before inclining her head toward Howards. The brunette had to improvise. She struggled, trying to find something to say before inhaling a bit and telling Howards, "Rise."

Howards got up and simply gawked at her with big, blue eyes before remembering himself and turning away.

Severus smirked at his behaviour and turned to the Dark Lord's niece. "The Dark Lord is ready to see you, my mistress," he said.

Hermione nodded, and wordlessly started following Howards, who'd scrambled ahead to lead her way. The Weasley girl walked at Miss Granger's side, far enough so that she didn't touch her. They had slipped into their parts finely; he had to give them that.

As they walked along corridor after corridor, Severus stared at the back of the Princess' head, wondering when her curls had lost the frizzy quality they had had in her childhood. And he couldn't help but wonder if the Dark Lord's grandmother's hair was exactly like his niece's. The Lord had killed _her_ – why would he not do the same to the young woman who looked so much like her? As this thought settled, he felt something tighten at the bottom of his chest and it didn't loosen as they continued.

A few Death Eaters had passed them on their way. All were lucky enough to be coming toward them – Severus quickly looked into each one's mind to see that Howards had mouthed "the Lord's niece" to each one. Every single one of them had stopped and taken about half a second to stare at the girl wearing purple before dropping into low bows. Hermione, for her part, only nodded at the first two. She then got bored with acknowledging them and did nothing more than give each one a quick once-over as they passed, not slowing her walk.

Severus had to chuckle inwardly – the Princess of Gryffindor, now the Princess of the Dark Side, had slipped into her role quickly. Soon she would be confident enough to stroll past the Death Eaters without even glancing at them. Just like her uncle.

xXxXxXxXx

Hermione fought to keep her nerves at bay. She kept glancing at Ginny, who seemed to have everything under control as she walked along, looking at each Death Eater they passed with a critical eye. Hermione tried to copy her stance. She wasn't quite sure that she was radiating a dark, royal persona and it scared her. How would she be able to collect information for the Order if she couldn't get them to treat her like the Lord's niece?

As they walked along, Hermione felt Severus' presence behind her. There were no shadows along the dark walls and he was always so quiet. It came as no surprise that she couldn't hear him. But she knew he was there, and that comforted her.

The young man who was leading their way finally stopped in front of a large, wooden door and knocked. Hermione felt her heart clench and then deflate. She looked to Ginny with wide eyes when a high-pitched hiss answered. "Enter."

The blond seemed frightened as well. He stumbled while opening the door before turning around to face her and bowing before stepping away. Hermione looked into the darkness of the room and looked to Ginny. Ginny just curtsied about half an inch before taking a step to the side.

Hermione suddenly found herself fighting with the temptation to turn around and look at Severus. She could now feel his dark gaze at the back of her head. Inhaling and lifting her chin a little, she simply stepped forward and entered the room.

Her cool, Niece of the Dark Lord, Princess of the Dark Side façade was almost smashed when the door slamming shut behind her caused her to nearly jump and yelp. But she quickly straightened and her eyes went straight to the fireplace.

As soon as she laid her eyes on Voldemort, her blood turned to ice. She had seen him at the Ministry, but he hadn't been as frightening when he was far away and she was surrounded by her friends. Even in the dim light given off by the fireplace, she could see that his face was pale white and skeletal. His eyes glowed crimson and almost gave off their own light. Doing worse than any Death Eater had done tonight, she stood and simply gaped in fearful awe at the most feared wizard of all time.

The Dark Lord gave her the once-over that she had given to his followers. He then inclined his head toward her. He looked like he was about to say something, before hesitating, and then, spoke in a quiet, almost forced voice. "Niece," he said, by way of greeting.

The word snapped Hermione back to reality and she suddenly remembered herself. She inwardly yelped and scrambled forward, dropping into a rather graceless full curtsy when she was two meters away from him. She opened her mouth and almost choked when her breath hitched. "My Lord… Uncle," she stammered, quietly.

Voldemort eyed her for a second. She had changed since the last time he'd seen her, but it was a welcome change. Her hair still looked the same as it did, and for some odd reason, that pleased him. "How do you find your living arrangements?" he asked.

Hermione blinked. Living arrangements? Was the Dark Lord making small talk? "It's beautiful," she breathed. "This castle is breathtaking."

"That's fine," Voldemort said. He turned and looked to the fireplace, not knowing what else to say to the girl. He hadn't imagined how their meeting would go. He hadn't even thought of what he may want to ask her – for some reason, he hadn't wanted to start quizzing her about the Order straight away. "You're well, then?"

Hermione chanced a look up from the carpet and saw that the Dark Lord was staring at the fireplace. "Yes, sir." She hesitated, and added, "Thank you for letting my friend come with me."

Voldemort nodded, absent-mindedly. "I'll admit to you… Hermione." He turned around to look at her. "I have nothing else to say to you. I only called you to me because I was curious about you."

Hermione simply gaped at him for a second. Was he this blunt with everyone? She suddenly realized that he was waiting for a reply. Only one line of thought came to her and she cautiously voiced it. "Well… Uncle. I think that, as far as families go, the silence is a good thing. The awkwardness shows that we are, in fact, related."

For a second, the Dark Lord only stared at her. And then – Hermione almost died of shock – he laughed out loud. This laugh wasn't at all high and cold, like the evil one she'd heard at the Ministry. His laugh was low, throaty, albeit raspy and she thought it was probably because he didn't laugh like this often.

"You're clever," Voldemort said, and there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Perhaps I inherited that from you?" Hermione asked. "Flitwick once told me that I was close to breaking the records you set." It was a half lie – after her exams were written, her professor had told her that she had done it. But she thought that the Dark Lord would take that bit of information unpleasantly. She looked up at Voldemort, and suddenly noted that his eyes seemed a little less red. Because of the fire, most likely. He didn't seem quite so scary, now that he was a bit more relaxed.

The Dark Lord smirked. "Perhaps so, then." For a second he was silent, and then he asked her. "You are not scared?"

Hermione hesitated, and then decided that honesty was the best answer. "I am very scared."

"Of what?" He turned away from the fire and fixed his gleaming red eyes on her.

"I fear that…" Hermione's voice trailed off and she chose her words carefully. "That I may not live up to your standards." She paused. "I fear failure."

The Dark Lord studied her. "What is failure, Hermione?" He turned back to the fire. "Why do you believe that you will not live up to my standards?"

Hermione gulped, inwardly. "I do not know. I feel…" She struggled to find the right word and followed his gaze to the fire. "I just hope that, if I just do everything you tell me to, everything will turn out fine."

Voldemort gave her a short nod. "You do not fear _me_?"

Hermione decided that, once again, honesty was the best route to take. "I fear you."

"Why?"

"You're the Dark Lord."

Voldemort smirked a little. "I suppose that's reason enough." He paused for a second, remembering her earlier words. "You will do everything I tell you?"

"It's my duty as your niece," Hermione answered, choosing her words carefully and trying to be careful not to accidentally make an oath or a vow.

Voldemort nodded. "Tomorrow, at breakfast, you will be presented to the most important members of my court and organization."

"Yes, Uncle."

"Is there anything else you wished to discuss?"

Hermione hesitated for a second, and then tentatively asked, "Schooling?"

Voldemort smirked again. "I'll have someone send you books. Would you like a tutor?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I shan't need one at the moment. But, I thank you."

"If that is all?" Voldemort asked, looking stoic again. Hermione nodded, silently. "You are dismissed then."

Hermione's eyes widened before she scrambled up out of her full curtsy. She painfully noted that her legs were aching. She gave him the short bow that Ginny had taught her and left, feeling amazed that the meeting had gone so well.

As soon as she slipped out the door and shut it behind her, Hermione let out a sigh of relief. She looked up and realized with a start that she was once again alone with the Potions Master. Her chest twisted nervously when she met his dark, curious gaze and she quickly looked away to glance around for signs of Ginny or that blond Death Eater.

"Howards has escorted your friend back to her room," Severus supplied.

Hermione frowned. "Why?" she asked.

Severus smirked a little. "I hope that it's so that she can get to know him and earn the trust of his colleagues through him." He quirked a shoulder. "She may have it accomplished soon – Howards was quite eager to get into her good graces."

Hermione stiffened. "Of course," she muttered. She couldn't help but feel a little annoyed that Ginny left her place by the door in the middle of such an important meeting.

"Shall I escort you back to your room?" Without waiting for a reply, Severus turned on his heel and started walking, frowning when he heard his mistress move quickly to follow him. Hopefully, she wouldn't put up with such actions from any other Death Eater…

"Well?"

Hermione's quiet voice barely reached Severus as they walked. Suddenly, she had caught up with him and was walking at his side, her robes fluttering behind her and the curls of her hair bouncing. Severus looked away from her and sneered before answering. "Well what?" he asked.

"Aren't you going to ask how it went?"

"You're still _here_, aren't you?" Severus snarked.

"It's bad form to answer a question with a question."

Severus stopped at her words and her rather haughty tone. When he turned to scowl at her, she just raised her eyebrows before continuing to walk.

After mere _minutes_ with the Dark Lord, she'd grown comfortable enough… Severus stared blackly at the back of her head, more than just a tad irritated that she'd taken such a tone against him. A knot of anger throbbed at the bottom of his chest… In public, he may have excused her if it were absolutely necessary that she act like that toward him. But they were alone here. Severus paused as this thought settled. _They were alone here._

In two quick strides, Severus had caught up to Hermione. Before she had a chance to react, he grabbed her arm and shoved her against a wall. He held her against the stones with his body, his chest hard against her bosom. One hand pressed against her mouth and he felt her soft lips open a little in shock when he held the tip of his wand to the bottom of her jaw. He saw, with some satisfaction, the movement in her throat as she gulped. Her eyes were wide with shock and fear.

"Don't you dare," Severus hissed. "I won't take any disrespect from you unless it is absolutely necessary." He pressed harder against her, invoking a barely audible whimper from her. "And when it is necessary, rest assured that there _will_ be a price to pay." He paused and looked into her eyes, and, for a crazy moment, he suddenly wondered what colour the Dark Lord's eyes were. Did his devil have the same eyes? He smirked, wryly then. "Do not test me, my _mistress_." His tone was venomous. "You are your headmaster's star student and now… You're also your uncle's _darling_ niece. Neither wants you hurt. They have both wronged me in the past – if you show me the slightest bit of disrespect like that again, I will take my justice against them through you." His voice was quieter, but his intense, contemptuous gaze spoke volumes. "Is that clear?" the Potions Master breathed.

Hermione forced herself to nod as much as she could. With him pressing her head against the stone wall with such strength, it was a feat she managed to move at all. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest and blood had rushed to her head… He scared her more than her uncle had… She always knew he had a temper, but she'd never experienced his wrath alone.

When he moved away and started walking again, without a single word, it took her a moment to regain her composure and start following him. She hung behind this time. Not out of fear, but her whole body was trembling, and she didn't trust her legs to carry her if she started walking any faster.

When they reached the corridor with her room, Severus barely stopped at it before continuing on, seeming to disappear into the darkness.

Hermione quickly swung the door open, eager to escape into the solitude of the beautiful chamber. But as she was closing the door behind her, it stopped. She turned around and started to see that Severus was holding the door open. She fought the urge to inch away and held her place behind the half-opened door.

"You fear me," Severus said. His voice was soft so that he wouldn't wake the portraits, but it still carried all the power and authority he had.

Hermione looked up at him in surprise, her eyes fluttering wide open. Then, she slowly nodded. "Almost as much as I fear my uncle."

"Then you understand that I am the lesser of two evils," Severus breathed, his dark eyes blazing.

"The lesser of two evils… But evil nonetheless," Hermione added, regaining some of her strength.

Severus smirked, sardonically. "What did I _just_ tell you about respect?"

"I apologize, Master Snape," Hermione hissed. "I wasn't trying to be disrespectful. I was just stating the facts."

Severus' smirk widened, a look of mock disbelief crossing over his face. "There it is again," he muttered. He easily shoved the door open, consequently sending Hermione stumbling back a bit. He stepped inside and quickly, but quietly shut the door behind him.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, her eyes flickering to the doorknob. "What do you think you can do without having to explain things to His Lordship in the morning?"

Severus' lips quirked. "It's amazing how quickly you reference the Dark Lord for every little thing."

Hermione scowled, her eyes flashing but said nothing.

Severus took a step toward her. "You will not write to your friends or go running to your uncle about tonight. I expect our private conversation to _stay_ private."

Hermione looked up at him, wanting so much to be defiant. To tell him that she would tell whoever she wanted _whatever_ she wanted. But, she didn't. She _couldn't_. "It will," she finally muttered.

Severus turned to leave, but seemed to hesitate before turning back to her. "You asked me who I trusted. I trust no one." He gave her a pointed look. "Not even you." He saw her eyes widen in surprise, but was already out the door before she could react further.

Hermione stared in shock at the closed the door for a long moment. A million thoughts swirled through her mind, and she suddenly felt so dizzy and so tired… Letting out a quiet sigh, she fell to her knees on the carpet, still struggling to understand the exchanges they'd had that night.

Sometimes, Severus Snape could be the protective, trustworthy man from school. But it took one wrong move to bring out his dark side.

What was she doing?

End of Ch. 4

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A/n

Yes, Hermione, what are you doing, disrespecting him like that? It's that Riddle pride getting to her. (shakes head) Now that she's in Severus' bad graces, things will get a little bit tougher.

Sorry, readers, but Fenrir, Cissy and Bella have been moved to the next chapter because this one was getting too long. But, meh, at least it's already written! You know what to do to make me post…

Luv

Creatress


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer - I don't own HP or anything related.

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Author's Note:

I updated, quickly, that's good, right?

Luv

Creatress

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Chapter 5

"Must I give you your pep talk again?" Ginny asked.

Hermione eyed herself in the long mirror. "No," she answered, straightening up. She was wearing pale lavender robes, with plum and gold trimmings and borders. Her jewelry, which Ginny had insisted upon, was a bit heavier this morning. She thought with a wry frown that it took more jewelry to impress her uncle's followers than it did her uncle. Of course, his followers _were_ more materialistic. Her hair was piled up at the back of her head in an intricate twist, allowing one long curling lock to escape and dangle over her shoulder. The most uncomfortable things she were wearing were her "walking" boots – high heeled and tight. "I never appreciated muggle clothing much before."

Ginny, who was dressed in shimmering gray and inky black robes, smirked at her. "I actually enjoy our clothes." She spun around on the spot, letting her robes and hair flutter up a bit. "Look at it this way – if we do go down, we'll look good doing it," she said, wryly.

Hermione turned to face her before sinking into an armchair in an effort to calm her nerves. "That wasn't funny at all," she muttered. She suddenly noticed that Ginny's pendant was pulled up to her throat instead of being tucked inside her robes.

Ginny opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a knock at the door. She gave Hermione a pointed look.

"Enter," Hermione called.

The door opened and a big, burly man with wild gray hair walked in, followed closely by a scowling Surgeon. Surgeon wiped off his angry expression to give Hermione an apologetic expression, but Hermione didn't have the time to react to him before turning to look at his colleague, who had stopped to give Ginny a short bow.

"You must be Miss Weasley," the stranger said, giving her a small smile. His voice was deep with a chilling, gruff timbre to it.

Ginny made no move to bow back, but nodded stiffly. "Yes." Before she could ask him who he was, he spoke again.

"I envy you, Miss Weasley," the stranger said as his dark eyes travelled to the brunette in the armchair. He started walking toward Hermione. "It must be a true pleasure to spend so much time with the Lord's niece." He stopped right in front of a dumbfounded Hermione before kneeling and taking her hand. "My Mistress," he murmured, before shortly pressing his lips to her knuckles. He looked up and grinned at her, his extremely yellow front teeth overshadowed by his even yellower, inhumanly large canine teeth.

Hermione's eyes widened, but she managed to compose herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ginny raise her eyebrows at the man's audacity – no other Death Eater had dared to come close to her, never mind _kiss_ her. "I have missed your name, Sir?" she asked.

"Fenrir Greyback," the man said, squeezing her hand.

Hermione stiffened, trying desperately not to remember Remus. "Greyback?" she asked.

"Please call me Fenrir," the werewolf said.

Surgeon spoke up then. "Greyback is currently one of the Dark Lord's most trusted allies," he said, shooting Hermione a rather pointed look.

Hermione blinked before forcing herself to smile. "Oh…" She mumbled, pathetically, unable to find anything else to say to the man in front of her. "That's nice."

Greyback grinned, once again revealing his canine teeth, as he stood with Hermione's hand still clasped firmly in his. "Your uncle sent me to escort you to breakfast. May we?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she glanced up at the other two in the room. Ginny gave her a sharp look and nodded. Unsurely, Hermione turned back to Fenrir. "That would be lovely," she managed to say, as she got up.

"Let's go, then," she stated, tightly, trying to put as much distance as she could between her and Fenrir as possible. Hermione clenched and forced herself not to look at Surgeon or Ginny as she wound her arm around Fenrir's and was led out of the room.

Behind Hermione, Ginny took Surgeon's arm. "What is going on?" she mouthed, glancing at the werewolf.

Surgeon shook his head. "Greyback is currently one of the Dark Lord's most trusted allies," he hissed. "He sent him to fetch her for breakfast, and I only managed to follow because of you." He paused. "Have I thanked you for coming along?"

Ginny frowned. "He won't do anything with the Dark Lord watching," she stated, looking at Greyback's back.

"Of course, not."

Ginny stared at back of Hermione's head. "Then we'll be fine. As long as she can keep her affection for Remus Lupin and her hatred for Greyback at bay, we'll be fine."

Surgeon nodded. "Can she?"

Ginny didn't answer this question directly. "She knows how important this breakfast is. First impressions – everything depends on this."

Hermione and Ginny were at the same table, though a few seats away from each other. The dining hall of Barrenhurst was set up much like the Great Hall – there was a head table at the back of the room and six long tables before it. Three were on each side of the hall, leaving a cleared space in between them. The hall was much brighter than one would have expected – sunlight streamed in from grand, open windows and the room was covered in green and silver tapestries.

The four of them had arrived before Voldemort had, and the people who were already there were strolling about, socializing. Once Greyback entered the room with the Lord's newfound niece on his arm, a buzz formed, starting at the people who were closest to the entrance and spreading to the others.

Hermione lifted her chin and walked in, gracefully. She kept repeating to herself of who she was acting as and what kind of safety and power that gave her, and drew strength from that. She might as well use this time to do her job. "Introduce me to people, will you?" She frowned. "Anyone I may need to know," she said to Greyback.

Greyback laughed and nodded. "Of course, mistress."

Surgeon had led Ginny away after she made a similar request. Hermione watched them go and caught an encouraging look Ginny shot her before she disappeared into the throngs of people.

"Mistress Malfoy," Greyback suddenly said.

Hermione started a bit and turned around. They had stopped in front of Narcissa Malfoy, who was looking at her in shock. Hermione couldn't help but draw some pleasure and strength from the way her eyes were widened and her jaw was dropped in an unladylike fashion. "Ah," she said, softly, a cruel smile playing at her lips. "I believe I've seen her before."

Greyback seemed to have missed the expressions on both women's faces. "Oh, have you?" he asked. "Mistress Malfoy, this is the Dark Lord's niece, Mistress Hermione Jane Granger."

Narcissa finally snapped out of her shock and, to her great humiliation, and to Hermione's glee, was forced to drop into a curtsy. Hermione didn't tell her to rise. Instead, the brunette turned to Greyback. "When will my uncle get here?" she asked, sounding bored and curious at the same time.

Greyback glanced around. "I apologize, Mistress. I'm not quite sure." He suddenly noticed that Narcissa was still lowered. He looked confusedly at Hermione, who looked back at him with a deadpanned expression; refusing to show sign that something was wrong. "Would you… Like to continue along?" Hermione nodded, and he started to lead her away before a shout came from the entrance of the hall.

"The Dark Lord!" Peter Pettigrew called, trotting in. He fell into a bow a few meters into the room. A second later, everyone else turned and also bowed or curtsied.

Voldemort entered the room with all the air of a God. He was followed closely by Snape and another man who Hermione didn't recognize. From beneath her lashes, Hermione saw that the Dark Lord ignored most of the people in the room, stopping to glance at only one or two. She briefly wondered if Ginny had caught his eye, but this thought was quickly pushed from her mind when she realized that her uncle was coming toward her. She lowered her eyes to the floor and didn't even glance up when the rim of his robes came into her line of vision.

"Fenrir, if I may escort my niece to her seat?"

"My Lord." Hermione felt Greyback move away from her and chanced a glance up at the Dark Lord only after taking his arm. He wasn't looking at her.

"Go to your places," Voldemort threw over his shoulder. His followers rose out of their bows and went to find their seats, though they remained standing. He took her to the center of the head table, and they were the only ones there. Everyone who would be sitting around them kept at a distance – somehow they'd sensed that their Lord wanted to make an announcement. The Dark Lord looked around at those present before nodding at the girl beside him. "This is my niece. Hermione Jane Granger – I'm sure you've heard her name before. We managed to rescue her from Dumbledore's grasps only yesterday afternoon. Her loyalty is now on our side, and I expect you treat her as the princess she is now, as my niece, rather than the girl she used to be." He glowered at them for a second, as if daring anyone to suggest or act otherwise. No one moved a muscle.

Hermione inwardly stiffened a bit. So he was aware of all of indiscretions against him. And from the looks of it, so did everyone else.

Voldemort nodded. "Be seated, then." No one moved to follow this order until after he'd deposited Hermione in the seat next to him and sat down himself. The people at the six tables before them sat down and there was a slight scuffle as everyone at their table moved to take their places.

Greyback took the seat across Voldemort and flashed her a full-toothed grin. Hermione forced herself to smile politely at him, while straining to take command of her gag reflex. An old woman who she didn't know sat on her other side, and beside her, sat another, younger-looking woman.

Hermione nodded at each of the women and quickly glanced around for Ginny, but didn't find her. However, she thought she saw a flash of well-groomed white hair quite a few seats away from them, but she wasn't sure if it was Surgeon.

For a while, Hermione ate in silence, keeping an ear open to catch snippets of Voldemort's and Greyback's conversation. Most of it was about the werewolves allegiance to him – however, there was a slight problem. Fenrir seemed to be a tad unenthusiastic about Voldemort's progression with the vampires.

Hermione chewed thoughtfully. That's right – werewolves and vampires didn't get along.

"Why didn't Severus join us this morning?" Greyback suddenly asked.

Hermione started when she heard the Potions Master's name and whipped around. However, the Dark Lord seemed to sense her quick movement and turned to look questioningly at her, causing her to flush a little and turn away.

"He was supposed to," Voldemort said slowly. Hermione could still feel his gaze on the side of her head when he said that. The pressure lessened when he turned to face Fenrir again. "However, he was quite insistent on getting back to Hogwarts this morning. He'll be with us for dinner after fulfilling his mission tonight." Hermione looked up at them through the corner of her eye.

Fenrir hummed thoughtfully for a second. "It's a shame that he's forced to pretend to serve Dumbledore as well."

Voldemort chuckled a little, making Hermione look up at the back of his head. "I do believe Severus will be free of him soon."

"Isn't this precious?" Fenrir suddenly asked. Hermione turned to him and started to see that his eyes were fixed on her around Voldemort. The werewolf smiled slowly. "She's concerned about her teacher."

The Dark Lord turned to his niece and smirked a little when she looked embarrassed. "You've no tact, Hermione," he muttered. When Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes, he continued. "Nobody expects you to be seen and not heard – I've certain expectations for the only living relative I have." He nodded toward Fenrir. "If you have any questions, just - " He stopped talking suddenly and turned toward the entrance to the hall.

Hermione followed his gaze and scowled, momentarily before remembering herself and forcing her face into a neutral expression. "How late do you allow people to show up to breakfast?" she asked, her critical question sounding almost casual.

Voldemort gave her a small smirk before turning expressionlessly to the newcomer. The conversation at the table nearest to the entrance had dimmed somewhat.

Bellatrix was limping into the hall, obviously sporting a leg injury. She looked paler than usual, there were dark circles under her eyes and her dark robes were a tad disheveled. Narcissa stumbled in soon after her older sister. The whole hall was now growing hushed.

Hermione frowned, noticing the blonde, and guessed that Narcissa had run to her older sister as soon as she and Greyback had left her earlier.

"My Lord." Bellatrix kneeled, her head lowered. Hermione suddenly found herself wondering if her leg injury was keeping her from curtsying the way witches usually did around here.

"Bella, it's nice to see you up and about," Voldemort replied. A few chuckles sounded around the hall at this and Hermione noticed the witch scowl ferociously. "What was so important that you decided you needed to interrupt breakfast for?"

The question caught Bellatrix off guard and she blinked many times in surprise before turning her bloodshot eyes to Hermione. "My Lord, I had heard a very surprising, and fairly _disgusting_, rumour."

Hermione stiffened, her face hardening as looked down on the dark witch. Her hand instinctively moved to her wand. Beside her, her uncle noticed her reaction. "You know I don't care much for rumours," the Dark Lord said, turning back to his servant. "But since you've already interrupted the flow of conversation, you might as well give us something _else_ to talk about." He frowned, and there was an unspoken threat in the pregnant pause. "What have you heard?"

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at Hermione, who unflinchingly met her gaze coldly. "That Potter's worthless, _filthy_ muggle loving friend sits at your right this morning." Obviously, her sister hadn't heard Voldemort's speech a few minutes ago, so Bellatrix didn't know about it either.

A few shocked mutters arose, but the Dark Lord quickly silenced the room with one crimson glance. He turned back to Bellatrix, his face as stony as Hermione's. "Obviously, you were misinformed. As you can see, it is my lovely niece who sits at my right this morning." Hermione almost smiled when a shocked, disbelieving look crossed Bellatrix' face. Before she could react further, the Dark Lord continued. "This is why they say you should never believe everything you hear. If that is all, Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix glanced at Voldemort before lowering her head again.

Voldemort opened his mouth to say something, but once again, he was interrupted – this time by loud, anguished screams. Hermione looked up in shock, her eyes widening when she saw Bellatrix had collapsed and was screaming in obvious pain. As Narcissa rushed to her, people were starting to get up to look and her and try to figure out what was wrong.

"Are you doing this?" Hermione asked, glancing at Voldemort. The Dark Lord was watching the display curiously and shook his head. Not even feeling surprised at his lack of concern for his servant, she looked around to Fenrir, who looked absolutely gleeful. His hands were empty – it wasn't him either. Hermione glanced around, trying to figure out what was happening when a startled yelp added to Bellatrix' screams. Hermione whipped her gaze back onto Bellatrix and almost got up in shock. Her stomach twisted – Bellatrix' skin was starting to turn an ugly red and dark brown.

"That's not the Cruciatus," Voldemort remarked. He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes, as if trying to get a closer look. A ghost of a smile passed his lips. "I haven't seen that curse in decades. Do you realize what is happening?"

Hermione watched in morbid fascination, wondering at his question. People were rushing toward her now, trying to figure out if they should move her or wait until the curse lifted – it was hard, because no one wanted to get too close for fear of accidentally getting hit with it themselves. Others were also looking around, trying to figure out who was doing it. In the chaos, in her peripheral vision, Hermione suddenly noticed the plate in front of her. Toast. She'd yet to butter it. All of a sudden, she knew exactly what was happening and who was responsible. "She's…" Hermione trailed off for a second. "Getting _toasted_." Try as she might, she couldn't keep the smile from her face.

"That's it!" Someone exclaimed. "He's lifted it!" A few of the Death Eaters rushed toward Bellatrix now and levitated her out of the room, her screams of pain still echoing around the hall.

Voldemort glanced at his niece and was pleased to see the smile on her lips. "I realize you're not doing this, but there's no doubt that you enjoyed the display."

Hermione thought quickly. It wouldn't do to tell him the real reasons she despised Bellatrix. Thinking quickly, she turned to give him a small, but charming smile. "I've been away from you for all of my life – that was just my bad luck. But now that I am here, _I_ want to be your favourite."

For a second, Voldemort didn't react. Then his lip curled upward. "I've no doubt." He got up, and everyone scrambled up with him. He gestured for Hermione to follow him out of the hall. "This place smells like burnt flesh now." He nodded toward the centre of the hall, where Bellatrix had taken her torture, as they passed it. "Why did you not react then?"

Hermione sighed a little. "My hand was on my wand."

Voldemort frowned. "As was mine." He stopped when they stepped outside into the gardens. Others were starting to step outside too, to avoid the smell.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I was wondering if I should get your permission. But then, someone got her before I did."

"My permission?" Voldemort looked ready to laugh. "My dear niece, you don't know me at all." He looked thoughtful, before smiling sinisterly. "I suppose the break from my Cruciatus would be good – no point in letting someone get used to the pain." He paused. "What would _you_ have done?"

Hermione shrugged, glancing away for a second. "I hadn't quite chosen." _Set her on unquenchable sapphire blue flames._

"Still," the Dark Lord said, glancing at the exit of the hall with a small smile. "I would like to know who did that." His niece's discomfort drew his attention to her. He turned to her, questioningly. "Do you know who did that, Hermione?"

Hermione's breath hitched, as she wondered if she should lie. As if on cue, Ginny exited the hall, followed closely by Surgeon and, of all people, Peter Pettigrew. Voldemort followed Hermione's gaze and his expression became unreadable. Her heart fluttering inside her chest, Hermione sighed a little. "If you wish to know," she muttered to her uncle. She turned, and catching Ginny's gaze, gestured for her to come over.

Ginny glanced demurely at Voldemort, but, unable to disobey an order from her friend, walked over, looking completely unabashed.

"Ginevra," Voldemort stated, by way of a greeting.

Ginny dropped into a half curtsy when she was about a meter away from them. She rose and met his eyes for a second. "My Lord."

Surgeon looked at her, curiously and Pettigrew, who was already aware of everyone's history with each other, looked highly uncomfortable. Hermione gulped a little, and tried to break the ice. "This isn't awkward at all," she said. It was more of an order for everyone to relax, than it was a statement. This drew a wry smile from Voldemort. She waved her hand toward the redhead. "I believe _Ginevra_ cast that curse. She taught it to me just yesterday before we came here."

Ginny didn't react, but nodded, smiling slightly. "It was me." Surgeon turned to her with wide eyes. Peter, who had watched Ginny grow up, didn't look too surprised.

"Noble of you to come running to your friend's rescue," Voldemort stated.

Ginny glanced at Hermione, but her smile widened a bit. "I don't believe Hermione need rescuing – I just have a shorter tolerance level for annoying voices."

Voldemort chuckled a little. "Nothing personal against Bellatrix?"

Ginny smiled, as charming as ever, and met his eyes. "No, my Lord. Just her voice."

The Dark Lord watched the younger girl carefully. "Where did you learn that spell? It's a rare, dark curse to be able to cook a fully grown person like that. I haven't seen it for a while now."

Ginny held Voldemort's gaze. "My Lord, I believe I _read_ it somewhere."

Hermione's eyes widened – she hadn't asked Ginny which book she'd taken it from. Ginny's reply had sent a chill running through her. Ginny didn't mean - ? She looked to Voldemort to see how he would react. Her uncle, however, looked relaxed, but Hermione didn't think he missed the reference.

The Dark Lord smirked. "It must have been a special book," he remarked. He then nodded. "I have some plans to edit. Hermione, Ginevra. Peter," he said. He turned to Surgeon. "A word, Jasper?" When Surgeon nodded, Voldemort walked away, the Albino following closely behind him.

Ginny cleared her throat, and Hermione turned to her. The brunette immediately erupted. "I can't believe you did that!" Hermione exclaimed. "What if he'd reacted badly?"

Ginny looked at her blankly. "Reacted badly? To a display of skills like that?" She smirked. "Hermione, you don't know your uncle at all." Without giving Hermione a chance to respond, she turned to Peter. "Guess where the Great Death Eater Duo, Snivellus and Scabbers, are going tonight?"

Hermione turned to Peter and effectively masked the immense hatred she felt for the man. She was more interested in the mission the Dark Lord had mentioned. "Where?" she asked, thickly.

Peter bowed a little. "My mistress, we're going on a mission to break into Gringotts and kidnap a few trolls."

Hermione stiffened. "But that's impossible!" she exclaimed.

Peter nodded, stiffly. "It's highly difficult," he acknowledged.

A thought occurred to Hermione. "Why is he being given a task like this? He's _just_ broken us out of the Burrow."

Peter shrugged, frowning. "Severus is a workaholic?" he guessed.

"No, I just have a death wish."

Hermione started and turned when she heard his voice. Ginny frowned and Peter looked sheepish under Severus' scalding gaze. The brunette's eyes widened. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

Severus' dark eyes rested on Hermione and he bowed a little, his eyes never leaving hers. "My mistress. Because there is absolutely no way that you would willingly leave the Light Side, Dumbledore has come to the conclusion that you were kidnapped. He has sent me to come and rescue you – he's even given me a white stallion."

Hermione stared at him for a second, before she smiled at the ending to his sentence. He was in a good mood today – or as good a mood as he can be in. Unable to come up with something better, she told him, "You've missed breakfast."

Severus only smirked.

Peter spoke up then. "What will you tell him when you return?" he asked.

Severus raised an eyebrow at Hermione, obviously interested by her choice of company before replying. "That his once innocent Gryffindor has no wish to be taken away from the _torturous_ clutches of her Lord."

Hermione smiled wryly at Severus, but Peter let out a short laugh. "They never do," the man muttered.

Severus and Hermione straightened and turned to Peter with frowns, wondering what he meant. Ginny cleared her throat and beckoned for Peter to follow her as she started walking. "Peter's going to show me around and stuff. Then I can start _doing my job_." These last words were aimed at Hermione, accompanied by a sharp glance. Obviously, Ginny thought Hermione should leave Severus to start spying as well. Peter bowed to Hermione before following Ginny.

"It's amazing how charming your friend is," Severus remarked, dryly.

Hermione turned to him with an irritated frown. "Why not threaten her as well?"

Severus scowled a little. "I don't trust her not to blabber it to others," he answered, readily. Turning to Hermione, he held out an arm. "Walk with me."

Hermione had half a mind to tell him she'd rather go back to her room, but, sighing she took his arm. "Why the trolls?" she asked.

"The Dark Lord hasn't told anyone what he wishes to do with them yet," Severus answered. He was leading her toward a path amidst a cluster of high hedges.

Hermione leaned toward him a little. "It can't be done."

Severus smirked. "That's the fun of it," he snarked. "We've been planning for months. With all the obstacles…"

"Either way, you'll get hurt!" Hermione exclaimed. Her stomach turned.

Glancing around, Severus frowned. "Pray that I'll succeed. Otherwise, it'll just be you, your friend and Surgeon while I'm banished to a bed beside Bellatrix. Who knows what would happen?"

Hermione looked up at him in surprise. "He wouldn't punish you? Not after everything you've done?"

Severus turned and raised an eyebrow before smirking. "You don't know your uncle at all."

End of Ch. 5

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A/n

SSHG _really_ picks up next chapter… Poor Severus is going to get hurt. And he'll be stuck in the hospital wing with Bellatrix – wonder what they'll talk about? Especially if she catches a glimpse of Hermione worrying about him?

And to make matters worse, while Severus is down, Fenrir corners Hermione alone. This won't be pretty… (Except for the SSHG – _that_ will pretty! XD!)

Review!

Luv

Creatress


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer - I don't own HP or anything related.

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Author's Note:

Sorry about the long wait, but here it is…

Luv

Creatress

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Chapter 6

Hermione couldn't sleep. It was around 1:00 AM, and she was wide awake. She was clad in a light blue nightgown and robe, but she'd found it uncommonly chilly for early July out on the balcony, so she'd grabbed a shimmering cerulean coloured cloak as well. Her hair was out of the twist it had been for the better part of the day – and what a day it had been! They'd spent the whole day touring the castle, memorizing its twists and turns, and playing Meet and Greet, trying to win everyone's trust. This was until around 7:00 PM when dinner was served, and as soon as it ended, Severus and Peter were gone.

During the tour, Hermione had discovered the castle's front gates could been seen from her balcony. Now, she was waiting for the Potions Master to come through those gates.

Hermione frowned, staring into the night. Her teacher, her best friend and the darkest wizard of all time were right - she _didn't_ understand her uncle at all. How could he do such a thing? How did he expect to keep his followers loyal if he rewarded hard work with more hard work? Especially something as dangerous as breaking into Gringotts – a place laced with numerous obstacles – to kidnap a bunch of trolls. She'd whined and ranted about this for a long time after dinner when she and Ginny had been trying to learn more magic. The redhead had finally left for her room after becoming annoyed enough to set a few bats on her friend.

Hermione was interrupted from her thoughts when the front gates suddenly swung open. A black carriage, pulled by half a dozen hippogriffs, appeared through it and whipped up the long pathway to the castle.

Heart thudding wildly in her throat, Hermione left the balcony and stumbled through her room in the dark. As soon as she was out, she started running to the foyer, all the while inwardly praying that the Potions Master was okay. She couldn't do this mission alone – she, Ginny and Surgeon needed him. Their whole world needed him. She suddenly found herself thinking of all the times he'd saved her and her friends from disaster. Yes, he tortured them in class as payment, but the man had saved their lives. He was good. A mean-spirited and ill-tempered Slytherin, but still, he was good.

There was also something he said to her the previous night – "I trust no one." The words kept ringing through her head and she just couldn't forget them. Every time she relived the memory, she felt that ache at the bottom of her chest… The same ache she felt whilst reminiscing about Sirius and his life. She didn't know what it was, but she knew she didn't like it. Neither Severus' inability to trust nor her reaction to this information.

Hermione saw the arched entrance to the foyer and sped up. The foyer was a beautiful area; built in polished wood, with many catwalks and balconies lining its tall walls. She'd spent a lot of time there – it was easily one of her most favourite places in the castle. She wished it wasn't so busy, though. It seemed that people were always coming and going.

Hermione pretty much skidded to a stop at the entrance to the foyer. Her uncle, the Dark Lord, was already there. When she stopped, she almost considered pouncing behind a plant at the side of the arch, when Voldemort slightly turned and gave his niece a questioning look out of the corner of his crimson eye. Hermione only gulped, and dropped into a half curtsy, fixing her eyes firmly onto the ground.

"Well, don't just stand there, Hermione," Voldemort said. His tone was almost casual. He turned back to face the entrance. "They'll be here soon."

Hermione took a few steps into the foyer, hoping that she didn't look as breathless as she felt. She wouldn't be able to explain why she'd run down here at breakneck speed… She wasn't even quite sure herself. She glanced at Voldemort's back. He was dressed as immaculately as ever. Because of his face and physique, it was hard to tell if he'd been resting or awake all night, but his robes were neat. Had he been waiting up as well?

"My Lord?"

Hermione turned around as her uncle did. Two Death Eaters, both masked, were coming in from a side entrance. "The holding cells are ready."

As soon as the words were broken, there was a loud whinnying outside. Voldemort barely nodded before his two soldiers in the room rushed out to help their colleagues. When they were alone, the Dark Lord muttered, "I don't know what to think." He paused, almost causing his niece a stroke, before adding, "Your concern for one of the few people you trust here."

Before Hermione could react, four figures appeared in the doorway. The brunette almost gasped out loud and rushed forward to help, but managed to keep her place and silence. Severus and Peter were bloody, both having trouble standing and walking. They were both being helped by the two who'd just run out. It was obvious who her teacher was, as he was taller than the three around him. He was also easy to pick out because of his damnable pride – he kept shoving his aid away, willing himself to walk on his own.

"Well, Severus? Peter?" Voldemort slipped his wand out, and was now holding it lightly, slightly twirling it, leisurely. The threat was not lost on anyone around him. "Has the night been a waste?"

Severus managed to push the other Death Eater away before taking a step toward Voldemort. As he knelt, he reached into his robes and pulled out a small glass cube. Peter was just lowering himself to the floor when Severus tapped it with his wand and it enlarged. Hermione frowned in confusion – the glass cube was empty.

"My Lord," Severus muttered. His tone was almost as smooth as ever, but Hermione could hear the strain in it. To the untrained ear, he would have sounded fine, but she knew it wasn't. That was not the same voice that had ordered her and her friends around for the last six years. "They've been shrunk, but they're all in here. Four of them."

Voldemort looked absolutely gleeful. In a second, his wand was in its place in his sleeve again. "Excellent work. I knew I could trust you two."

Hermione gulped a little. Even Voldemort _trusted_. To an extent.

"Now," the Dark Lord breathed. "The trolls will be taken to their cells. Severus, Peter – rest. I assure you, you will be rewarded. And my door is open, if you should need anything." With that, he turned and glided out of the side entrance.

Hermione, while thankful that he hadn't gone by her, stood still until she heard a door close in the direction her uncle had left in. Something about his parting speech irked her; she was sure he hadn't been as pleased as he'd led on. But as soon as Voldemort was gone, her attention was diverted to the ill-tempered, half-blooded Slytherin she _did_ truly care about. Said Slytherin had, with all his injuries, managed to once again, jostle a Death Eater aside. Severus tried getting up on his own, but fell to his knees again. Hermione was almost exasperated as she was worried when she rushed forward and knelt down in front of him.

Peter had been carried away by the other two Death Eaters, so Hermione was left alone with Severus. Severus winced and almost fell forward, but Hermione caught his shoulders and kept him up, frowning in worry. "What happened?" she asked, quietly, using a tone one might use to calm an injured and frightened animal. "Where are you hurt?" Her amber eyes ran all over him. He had one arm wrapped tightly around his abdomen, but the whole front of his robes was bloody. There was also blood on his forehead and the corner of one eye, and his hair was wet – either with blood or perspiration, Hermione couldn't make out.

Severus growled a little, and when he spoke, he barely got the words out. "Damned goblins," he hissed. Now that his guard was down, his tone was much less smooth. It was so hoarse and strained. "Damned bank…"

"Why didn't you let them take you to the hospital wing?" Hermione whispered. She looked around, trying to remember which way it was.

Severus suddenly shook his head before abruptly stopping. Obviously, the movement had caused him further discomfort. "I've… Get back… Pomfr…" That was all he was able to manage before he winced and curled into himself a bit.

"No!" Hermione hissed, reacting. "You can barely stand. How do you expect to…?" Her voice trailed off when she noticed that her teacher had his lips pulled back. He was tense, like he was trying to hold in a scream. "Professor?"

Severus let out a low cry. His hands were balled into fists. All of a sudden, his upper body heaved a little before he fell a little again. Hermione leant forward and caught him, her arms around his shoulders. Her cheek was now wet with whatever was in his hair. She could feel the bottom of his chin on her shoulder and his gasps against her ear. He felt so cold. For a moment, she just held him, panicking, trying to figure out how to get him to the hospital wing, while simultaneously feeling thankful that he hadn't shoved her away as well.

"It'll be alright," Hermione suddenly heard herself saying. She glanced down at him out of the corner of her eye. "You're stronger than this."

All of a sudden, he heaved again, and Hermione tightened her arms around him. She heard him gasp and cough. His cough sounded… Wet. As soon as she thought this, the back of her shoulder started feeling damp. She turned her head a little and her heart raced when she saw that it was blood. He'd just coughed up blood. A lot of blood. What did that mean? Internal injuries? "Oh, dear God, no…" Even in these dire circumstances, his orders for her came back to haunt her. "Oh, _Circe_, help…"

As if Circe herself had responded, four house elves suddenly appeared around the two. Hermione looked around in shock as they bowed low. "Mistress, we have come to take Master Snape to the hospital wing," one said, stepping forward. Hermione looked at him curiously. Before she could ask who sent them, the elf answered. He nodded toward one of the balconies on the foyer wall.

Hermione looked up and met the hard, unreadable gaze of her best friend. Ginny was watching them, her hair and clothes as immaculate as her uncle's had been. Before Hermione could think of anything to say, Ginny turned and disappeared through a door. Hermione hung her head for a second before she gingerly helped the elves get Severus onto a floating mattress. Ginny would give her hell for this, but Hermione found it hard to care.

"We'll take it from here, Mistress," one of the elves said. Without waiting for a reply, all four disappeared, taking Severus with them.

Hermione stood, feeling dazed for a second before she turned and started back up to her room. There were millions of thoughts racing through her head. It had been amazing (and unbelievably exasperating) that Severus had managed to keep himself up until the Dark Lord had left. Was showing such a weakness, especially after a feat like the one he'd just pulled, so looked down upon? She was angry with herself, as well. For many reasons. Of course, Voldemort would have been waiting for them to return. Why wouldn't he? Of course, there were house elves around to help. Why wouldn't there be? Was she slowly losing her intelligence and common sense?

"My Mistress."

Hermione started, panic immediately bursting in her. She turned around fearfully, her memory telling her who the voice belonged to. She wasn't surprised to find Fenrir Greyback standing before her. In the dim light of the torches, he didn't look so different from her potions professor. His long gray hair was pulled back into a ponytail, his robes showed off broad shoulders and the shadows played across his sharp features. She thought she saw one of his fangs gleam in the firelight. "Master Greyback." Even Hermione was surprised at how steady her voice sounded.

Fenrir chuckled. His laugh was as throaty and deep as his voice. "How many times must I beg my Mistress to address me by my given name?"

_Infinite_. Hermione managed a thin smile. "Fenrir. What are you doing up?" she asked, carefully.

Fenrir smiled, wolfishly. "I couldn't sleep," he answered, taking a step toward her. "I was going outside, to take a few moments, to gaze at the moon. It calms me." He paused, and took a few more slow steps toward the young woman in front of him. "I had no idea I would run into our own Sol here."

Hermione, who had been fighting the longing to take steps back, looked up at him in surprise. "Sol?" she repeated. She fought a sudden desire to smile. "I am no sun goddess, Fenrir." She didn't even think to cringe inwardly when the werewolf stepped up to her.

"You look like a sun goddess," Fenrir said. His lips were quirked in a small smile. "With your golden skin… Amber eyes. Curls of russet…"

Hermione stiffened, remembering herself when he suddenly had a hand near the side of her face. For a third time that night, she choked, her eyes fixed firmly on Fenrir's slightly curled hand as it travelled slowly toward her hair. Icy coldness shot through her veins. "What are you doing, Fenrir?" she asked, trying to place a warning in her question.

Fenrir let out a quiet chuckle, but retracted his hand. "You look nothing like your uncle."

Hermione gulped a little. "So I've been told," she muttered.

Fenrir tilted his head a little and, for a second, simply gazed at her. "Won't you grant me the pleasure of using your given name?"

Hermione stiffened. She couldn't believe it – Fenrir Greyback was interested in her. _Her_. This thought sent a wave of panic and fear through Hermione as she realized just where they were standing – alone in a deserted corridor in the middle of the night. She gulped and steeled herself before looking up to meet the werewolf's gaze. "I doubt I would please my _uncle_ by granting such things." She hoped the mention of her relative would throw Fenrir. She was disappointed.

Fenrir smirked. "It can be our little secret," he told her, leaning a little toward her.

Hermione almost leaned back, but looked up at Fenrir bravely. "Fenrir, I may not look like my uncle but I know I have other things in common with him."

Fenrir nodded, almost approvingly. He was smiling when he spoke. "You have his temper."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "That," she agreed. Somewhere in her subconscious, a small voice tried to deny it.

Fenrir sighed a little. "Rumour has it that you also have his penchant for punishment."

Hermione's eyes widened. She had not been expecting that. "I bed your pardon?" she asked.

Fenrir was watching her carefully, his lips pulled back into a teasing smile. His expression clearly taunted her – '_I know something you don't_.' "May I escort you back to your room?"

Hermione frowned, clearly bothered. "There's no need."

In a sudden, swift movement, Fenrir had Hermione arm lightly around his. "But I insist."

They walked silently to Hermione's room and Hermione kept her eyes away from Fenrir, trying to focus on the disappearing, flickering of his shadow in the dim light, so that she'd be warned if he tried anything. She was so scared, she could barely walk – her heart was pounding, there was an insane amount of blood rushing to her head.

Hermione thought about what had just happened. Fenrir hadn't been pushy, or aggressive. He hadn't been violent at all… So unlike the way Severus Snape had treated her the previous evening. But that had been different. She was scared now. She'd thought she'd been afraid when she'd been with Severus, but now she realized that what she'd been feeling then wasn't fear, it was… What was it?

When they came to her room, Fenrir bowed, and gently ran his lips across Hermione's knuckles before straightening. "Good night, _Hermione_."

"Fenrir," Hermione said, stiffly. She wasn't in her room fast enough. And she'd been unable to sleep for the rest of the night.

By the time Hermione saw the tips of the sun appear over the horizon, she was glad for an excuse to get out of bed. She quickly showered, picked a few robes out of the wardrobe and dressed. She ran a brush through her hair and pulled half of it back into a ponytail. It wasn't half as classy as any of the styles Ginny managed with a flick of her wand, but it would do. At least the dark green satin robes she was wearing were radiant – the silvery embroidery made her think of a coniferous forest in winter.

Hermione left her room and looked down both ways of the corridor for a second. She had no idea where the hospital wing was. Hesitating a little, she whispered, "I need a house elf." She wasn't so surprised when one appeared in front of her. She took a moment to frown at the shapeless burlap sack it was wearing before steeling herself and asking it to lead her to the infirmary.

The infirmary looked very much like the one at school. So much that it was scary. Was her uncle trying to recreate Hogwarts here? Hermione nodded at the house elf before stepping inside, vaguely noticing the creature disappear away.

"Hello."

Hermione turned to the woman who had appeared at her right. This wasn't someone she had met the other day. She was a bit older, maybe in her forties or fifties. Her ebony black skin was a bit wrinkled, her eyes were brown and her dark hair was pulled into dreadlocks. She had an allure of her own and had a serious aura about her. "Hello. You are…?"

"Afia Gatura," the woman replied. She had an accent that suddenly made Hermione think of Tia Dalma. As she pushed the thought from her mind, she noticed that Afia was watching her carefully.

"That's a lovely name," Hermione said.

Afia narrowed her eyes a little and smiled slowly. "Yours is lovely as well. 'Tis a pity that everyone must call you 'Mistress' instead of your own name." She nodded. "It is, after all, who you are."

Hermione blinked, before frowning a little. "Not everyone," she said. Afia smirked a little and Hermione realized that Afia hadn't accepted her position of power yet. The thought made her scowl a little. "You are a Death Eater?" she asked, a touch of frost in her voice.

Afia shook her head. "I am not a fighter." She nodded at the Dark Lord, who was engaged in conversation with Greyback. "I am here to aid your uncle in his search for immortality. I also double as a nurse for your injured."

Hermione suddenly remembered why she was here. But she stopped herself before she blurted out a query about Severus. It would seem too suspicious, wouldn't it? "How are they? Severus Snape and Peter Pettigrew?"

Afia turned around to hide her smile. "I will show you to Severus. He's been up for a while now, bellyaching about wanting to go home." She started to walk toward the back of the room, followed closely by Hermione. "I've placed silencing charms on each of the beds, so that they'll get good nights' rests. I'm sure he will be happy to see you." She stopped in front of a drawn curtain and turned to Hermione. The older woman looked curious. "May I ask you something, my Mistress?"

Hermione stiffened, not liking where the conversation was going.

"Why is the Dark Lord's niece visiting a _lowly_ follower?"

There was something about the way Afia voiced that question. Like she knew they were spies. Hermione raked through her mind for an answer. He's my uncle's most trusted spy. He's protected and saved me from many dangers. He's a great teacher, and I have lots to learn? Hermione finally scowled, settling on a response that would do her Riddle ancestors proud. "Why would the Dark Lord's niece have to bear questioning from a lowly servant?"

Afia's eyebrows rose, but she was smiling. She gestured toward the curtain before leaving.

Hermione couldn't help but notice that Afia hadn't bowed. The fact that she'd noticed unsettled her.

Brushing it off, Hermione pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the square space, pulling the hangings shut again. "You are amazing," she said, dryly. There was power here – Severus didn't look hurt at all. He looked pale and tired, but no signs of injury were visible.

Severus didn't even turn to scowl at her. He was staring blankly at the curtain to the side. "You shouldn't be here. My Mistress."

Hermione stepped up to the foot of the bed. "Your cuts have healed nicely," she remarked. Severus didn't answer. She smiled thinly. "You were bleeding from your forehead last night. I can't help but think how funny it would have been if it had left a scar." She almost laughed out loud when Severus finally turned to glare at her. "It's almost nice to see you're yourself again. Almost."

Severus smirked, wryly. "I warned you about your comments."

Hermione's gaze traveled up the bed. He was covered to his neck with the blanket. "You're still hurt, aren't you?" she asked. He didn't reply. "Internal?" She felt the phantom memory of his gasps against her neck… His blood on her shoulder. "When will you be better?"

Severus looked at her, scowling. "Why are you here? What will you do if your uncle asks you why you visited?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Hermione answered, fighting to keep her voice even. "If he asks, I'll tell him the truth. His followers haven't really accepted me as yet, and I was worried for one of the few people I trusted." Her words sounded almost scripted. When Severus raised an eyebrow, she smiled thinly. "I practiced before I came down," she said.

Severus didn't look comforted. "Now that you know I'm alive, you may leave," he said, narrowing his eyes. His voice was soft, but cold. "And for the future, don't waste my time unless you have some news." He turned again so that he was facing the curtain.

Hermione bristled, not knowing how to feel. She might have expected this, but… Gods, he was infuriating. "I did have some news," she stated. She turned around and gently took hold of the curtains. Eyeing the cheap border, she said in a clear, painfully casual voice, "Fenrir likes me." She glanced at Severus and saw that she had his undivided attention now. He was watching her with narrowed, disturbed eyes. She almost smirked at his discomfort. "I mean, he really, _really_ likes me." Without waiting for a reply, she'd thrown back the curtains and walked out, leaving Severus to wonder and worry about her words for the next four hours that he was there in the hospital.

End of Chapter 6

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A/n

Did Hermione seem bitchy in that chapter? Oh, Mione, Mione…

And what did Fenrir mean about Hermione's penchant for punishment?

Next chapter:

Bellatrix confronts Severus.

Voldemort has a conversation with Hermione. (You'll never guess what this is about!)

Severus and Hermione, in a deserted dungeon, arguing about Fenrir. … Yeah, this'll end well…

Luv

Creatress

REVIEW!


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